How To Save a Life
by Artemis no Himitsu
Summary: Things are not as they seem with the DuGrey family. Even Tristan doesn't know the half of it. Tristan centric. Rated: K due to sexual comments and other stuff. Rating will definitely be going up in later chapters. R&R please!
1. Another Day in the Life

**How to Save a Life**

* * *

_Standard Disclaimers Apply._

* * *

Note: For the purposes of this story, everyone is in their sophomore year. I don't know if that's in according with the show, and I don't care. They're all sophomores.

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------- … scene change/break or indicated flashback

_Italics _… thoughts

**Bold **… emphasis

* * *

Teaser

* * *

"Master DuGrey?" There was no reply from within the room and the maid wasn't surprised. There was often no reply, especially not when this time of year rolled around.

She was getting a little concerned though. Sure, privacy and solitude were often what the teen behind this door claimed to desire most this time of year. However, she had been hoping for some sound or sign of being awake from the boy after her third round of knocking and calling his name.

So what did the maid do? She opened the door.

Now, had she been any other person, any other maid, she would have gotten an earful. The boy was not a morning person, but he could stay up all hours of the night. She poked her head into the room, calling to the boy again. Nothing.

She opened the door just enough to get her slim frame through. She didn't want anyone to see this. Only two other people, not counting the young master there, knew about their relationship. All parties aware of the relationship wanted to keep it under wraps for various reasons.

She quietly walked over to his bedside, getting on her knees. She studied him for a moment, taking in what she could. It was dark in the room; the sun's light trying to break in through his semi-closed blinds and thick curtains. The rays entered the room in streams, leaving patches of light in a few places.

She placed a hand on his exposed arm, which was clutching a pillow to him. "Tristan?" Here, she need not call him by his proper title. It was just them.

"Tristan, please wake up." There was a note of panic in her voice. Maybe she was overreacting, but when it came to the slumbering boy before her, she just couldn't help it.

"Tristan??"

* * *

A line of blue was revealed as Tristan cracked an eye open. A second later, both eyes were sporting equally narrow slits of blue. It wasn't a narrowing that indicated him being upset; he was just too sleepy to open his eyes fully. Blond locks were sticking up in every direction, a complete mess. He blinked twice, staring with a tired, half-lidded expression.

His eyes were questioning for a moment before his brain started to function. The maid scooted back as Tristan abruptly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was hunched over, not having to look up to know that the woman in his room was staring at him with a sad expression. She sat beside him and gave him a hug.

The blond-haired teen reveled in the embrace before forcing himself out of it. He wouldn't allow long hugs, not if he wanted to keep it together. And he **had **to keep it together. There was no option there.

But still, he didn't want to fully push away one of the three people that actually cared about him and his pathetic excuse for an existence. That prompted him utter a soft "Thank you Mira."

"No thanks are necessary; you know that," was the equally quiet reply. Typical. She always said that.

* * *

An hour later, Tristan was showered and dressed for the most part. It wouldn't have taken him so long if he hadn't indulged in staring out of the window – curtains now drawn back.

That moment of miserable reflection took thirty minutes, a whole half an hour, out of his day. He had no time for reflections. It would only bring him trouble. Enough of that would be coming his way without him adding more to it.

He stared at his reflection, sighing at how good he had become at wearing his mask. There were no signs of the pale, weary, miserable boy that had been lying in bed just one hour ago.

Tristan was gone and the King of Chilton was ready to go. His hair was a mess, but some ruffling and finger-combing turned it into the supposedly sexy, windblown/bed-mussed spiked look that the girls seemed to love so much. _Whatever. _

His laidback take on the school uniform did not originate from him trying to be cool or look good. Wearing it properly took too much effort; effort he could not afford to spare on anything more than making it through the day without shooting anyone, or himself for that matter.

* * *

A black Porsche pulled into a parking space that was silently 'reserved' for a certain blond 'playboy'. Said playboy opened the door and stepped out; bracing himself for the flood of girls he knew would be waiting on him. It was a wearisome task, fending them off long enough to actually make it into the school.

He tossed out his usual greetings to the guys that were supposed to be his 'buddies' and gave his customary smirk to the ladies. A certain lucky, and busty, blonde got a wink. She squealed and scrambled down the hall.

_Probably off to tell her friends. _A slap on his back while opening his locker told him that his move had not gone unseen. He didn't know why. Nothing would come of it, not this week. Tristan grabbed his History book and notebook and went to class, but not before stopping by the bathroom.

He splashed his face with hot water, instead of cold, hoping it would somehow affect the cold that seemed to have taken residence in his lungs. It wasn't surprising; he should have been expecting it. But why so early? The suffocation of being in school shouldn't have touched him for at least another two days. _Think of something else! _he mentally scolded.

His icy blue eyes fell on his books after he dried his face off. His books.. _School... _

Of course!

Chilton expected a great deal from their students. He wasn't here solely due to his last name. He was one of the top-ranking students in their grade. It wasn't as completely effortless as he made it look though.

Sure a photographic memory helped, but he **did **study. Not that it mattered. His intelligence was not what made him popular in this place. _Ugh._ Just thinking about it made him sick at times.

But now, right now, he couldn't do it. It would be too hard to play the games he played, to put on the act. No, he'd bury himself in his books and make up some excuse for his 'out of character' behavior. _Out of character_, he mentally repeated sarcastically. He snorted as he made his way to class.

The bell rung seconds after he walked through the door. His blue eyes somehow ended up falling on another set of familiar, disdainful blue eyes. He mentally sighed. She wasn't happy to see him. _Figures._ He was supposed to go to military school. Everyone, except for like two people, had been more than pleased to find otherwise. No one knew why, as he refused to talk about it.

_Of course they dropped it, _he thought to himself as he sat down. _No one would **dare** ask me to talk about something as **horrifying** as being shipped away from my only 'home' to the tortures of an all-boy military academy in North Carolina. _The only horrifying aspect of this whole thing was him having to come back here.

The teacher began to drone out today's lecture. Tristan threw himself into a task he usually didn't bother with – taking notes.

* * *

_Something isn't right,_ Paris Gellar concluded at the end of her History class. Despite the horrific date set-up by a certain clueless someone, she did still feel something for Tristan. She doubted it would ever go away. Even if she couldn't have his heart right now, she did miss their friendship quite a bit.

She didn't fully understand why he had broken their friendship off. They had just grown apart so quickly, and in a way that baffled her even now. But anyway, Tristan had come in, nonchalant as ever and seconds from being late – just like he always did.

_Gilmore looked horrified. _Yes, Rory Gilmore had seemed more than relieved with Tristan's imminent departure. Her face when he had walked in this morning was priceless.

But something about his return bothered Paris as well. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted him at his locker. He had been late. Paris knew, from her mother's incessant gossiping, that Tristan had never left.

The story was, as she understood it, that he had made it to the airport and then his father had Tristan brought home again. He should have been back months ago, but the boy didn't show his face until today – right after Winter Break. Why had he not returned at the beginning of the year?

She frowned as the answer did not immediately present itself. Aside from that though, everything seemed to be back to normal. Paris knew better. She may not have been able to honestly call herself his friend and confidant for a few years, but Paris had not forgotten a single thing about him. Something was off with Tristan. Being...well, herself, Paris took it upon herself to confront him.

She marched towards him, speeding up to catch him before he could dart off to his next class. Paris made it to him just as he closed his locker. The girl opened her mouth, and was shocked when nothing came out. She closed her mouth again, knowing he'd just chalk it up to shock or something. What was this speechlessness that struck her whenever he came around?

* * *

People had been staring at him all day, more so than usual, like they wanted to come to him and start an interrogation or something. Of course, it **would **be Paris Gellar that finally decided to approach him now. Her inability to come up with a greeting amused him.

If it weren't for his current mood, the blond boy would have called her on it with some completely inappropriate remark. But for now, all he could give her was a tired half-smirk. "Why hello Gellar, how are you this fine day?"

She seemed to compose herself at his semi-sarcastic greeting. "Fine DuGrey. Tortured any brunettes today?"

Mentally, he flinched. On the outside, Paris was gifted with a full-blown smirk. "I have no idea as to what you're talking about."

Her eyes narrowed and he remembered just how much he loved getting her to do that. If only he could appreciate it fully…but not today.

"Whatever DuGrey," was all she could come up with. Paris's mind was still a complete blank. That smirk, those eyes, that casual leaning…thing he did. He always made it look like he was propositioning any girl he talked to, no matter how innocent or normal the conversation. God how she loved that. But yeah, speechlessness was not her thing. It wasn't…like her. So she spun on her heel in a huff and stalked away. **That **was like her.

Tristan watched her go, shaking his head as he headed off to class again. _I wonder what she really wanted… _

* * *

Rory Gilmore was feeling a myriad of emotions as she sat in her English class – early as usual. She was frustrated, annoyed, unhappy, and something else.

She was frustrated with his ability to just show up and unhinge her world without trying. She was annoyed at how he could just appear and act like he had never left. It also annoyed her how everyone could just re-adjust their lives to him without question. It was like he had never left. She was just…unhappy with the situation in general.

Who was 'he', you ask? As if you didn't know. **'He'** was the resident fantasy of just about every female in this school – teachers included it seemed. **He** was the school's most notorious charmer and flirter. **He** was the one every guy wanted to be the best of buddies with. **He **was the school's king. **He** was Mr. Chilton himself.

Tristan DuGrey.

Tristan was back for spring semester and she didn't understand it. He hadn't been around when school had started. She remembered going through her first Tristan-free day. She had felt relief, right? Right. He had been gone all fall semester and she had become accustomed to life without him. And now, **_poof_**, here he was.

More students had filed in as she mentally complained about Tristan's return. He was going to ruin everything. **Again**.

Or she had thought. Rory had been more than shocked when he waltzed into her first period History class, mere seconds before the bell, as if it was the very first day of school or something. They had locked gazes when he came in, but nothing came of it.

He said nothing as he passed her. He was not at her locker after that. In fact, she had seen him talking, or arguing, – you could never tell when Paris was involved – with Paris at his own locker. There had been no sightings of girls being shoved against lockers nor had there been any talk of it.

He said nothing to her at any point during the day. There had been no disruptions at lunch; she had been able to read on a bench outside in peace. This was her second to last class of the day and the third one she had with him out of the six periods they had.

So here he was, in yet another class of hers. The bell rang a few seconds after his entrance. Whispers erupted, as if this was his first appearance of the day. And though he had yet to bother her, Rory dared not hope she would go the entire day without him agitating her. She mentally braced herself as he took the only seat left in the classroom; the one directly behind her.

Nothing.

Nothing happened. No 'Mary'-laced greeting. No lewd comments. Nothing. He barely spared her a second glance. In fact, for the rest of the period, they switched roles. It was Tristan that studiously wrote down extensive notes, while she sat and…didn't take notes.

The bell was what startled her out of the confusing thoughts racing through her mind. She watched as everyone, including Tristan, shuffled out of the room and to their next class. Then, ignoring the concerned/confused look from her English teacher, she left as well.

* * *

Tristan sighed as he sat down in the library. He was seated in a secluded corner that he remembered finding a long time ago. There was only one large desk over here.

Few students came this way. This was his study period, but contrary to his 'lose myself in school work' plan, Tristan only wanted to sleep now.

Running a hand through his already-messy blond locks, Tristan laid his head on the table, willing his headache to go away. He needed to re-group. He needed to get it together before he had to return to the ice palace that was supposed to be his home.

Minutes later, Tristan fell into a doze and slept the rest of the period away.

* * *

When the bell rang, he made it out of the school in record time. He practically ran to his locker, gathered his books, and bolted to the parking lot. He was thankful for his absent-minded move of leaving the top down, as it allowed him to jump right in and drive away.

As he drove along, Tristan belatedly realized that this rushing would bring him closer to home. His father was off this week. He'd be there…**waiting**.

Stopping for a red light, Tristan hit his head against the steering wheel. Lifting it for a moment, Tristan looked down the road that would take him home. Turning the wheel, Tristan took a left.

He'd be taking the scenic route today.

* * *

To Be Continued...?

Or not.


	2. Bad Day

**How to Save a Life**

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_Standard Disclaimers Apply._

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_Wow...just...**wow**. I had no idea that people would like this little teaser so much! 13 reviews; you all rock! I'd also like to thank all my readers, I can only hope that you're enjoying this too. And here are the reviewer responses:_

drlve

_I'm glad you enjoyed the teaser and my writing style as well. Comments like that help me feel good about writing in general and not just that story_

Tonje

_I will continue it and it's all thanks to reviewers like you! I'm glad you enjoyed it so much!!_

GiLmOrEgIrL129

_I'm not sure if your review of "or not" was a question of whether I was continuing "or not" or if you were sarcastically telling me not to bother continuing this..._

tiffanyco

_Aww...thank you. It's good to know that you like it and think it's "beautifully written". We writers do like to know that our writing is comprehensible as well as good subject-wise. Air of mystery you say? Cool. I was hoping to make readers curious. Thank you!_

whatthehalo08

_Intrigued? It doesn't happen often? Cool! Well, not that so many fics bore you, but that mine managed to capture some of that elusive interest of yours! Thank you!!_

kayla

_I'm glad you liked it. Thanks!_

Mel

_I'm glad you think my story "works quite well". Thanks for the encouragement, I will go for it! Thanks for the wishes of luck, I'll be needing it for my muses..._

living-in-harmony

_Hm...I'm afraid I can't tell you what exactly is going on with Tristan. You'll find out bit by bit though. Unfortunately, I won't "officially" be starting up this fic until my first one, "I Don't Want to Be" is finished, or close to finished. Thanks for the review!_

Curley-Q

_Oooo, more curiosity! Wonderful! Thanks for the review!_

allison

_And you will eventually find out! Thanks for the review!_

Elliotlvu

_Can't tell you what's wrong yet, but I can tell you that he wasn't supposed to do anything more than go straight home. He just didn't want to go home. At all really. Anyway, I most certainly will be continuing this as long as you reviewers want me to._

Naberrie Skyler

_More and more curiosity! Excellent. Thank you!_

LoVe23

_I'm glad it looks good to you so far. Ah, you're the first reviewer to make a comment on Mira. Very perceptive... Thank you for the review!_

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------- … scene change/break

_Flashback_…flashback start

_End_…flashback end

_Italics _… thoughts

**Bold **… emphasis

* * *

How to Save a Life: Chapter 1: Bad Day

* * *

Tristan pressed the button that would lock his car and stopped short of his house.

DuGrey Manor.

That's what people called it. Tristan referred to it as Arctic Manor. Why? Because that's what it felt like when he stepped beyond its threshold. It felt cold and empty, just like the Arctic – not that he'd ever really been there. _But I bet there's a house with our name on it just the same, _he thought bitterly.

He stared dully at it, not wanting to go in there. It was late and he'd been driving for a while. He took the longest 'scenic' route he could reasonably consider. At the time, it had seemed like a great idea. He didn't want to go home, so his brain concluded that that was a good way to avoid doing so.

But now…now it didn't seem like such a good idea. He entered warily, heart pounding.

_This is like a really bad movie_, he reflected as he crept up the stairs. However, he allowed himself to think otherwise as reached the top of the ridiculously long staircase.

Stupid.

"Tristan."

Ah, his father. It amazed him how he didn't have to yell in order for him to hear. _Probably due to the emptiness. Emptiness is conducive to echoing and carrying voices farther than they would normally go... _

"**Tristan.**"

Ooo…emphasis. These thoughts were obviously taking away precious seconds of his father's time. As he descended the stairs, bookbag left at the top of the stairs, Tristan did his best to keep the dread out of him.

It wasn't working.

* * *

"Coffee," came the plaintive demand.

Luke gave Rory his customary frown. He started to refuse, but caught sight of the too eager expression on the face of Rory's companion and decided it wasn't worth it. Grumbling about death wishes, he poured two large mugs of coffee, knowing they'd be empty soon.

Rory closed her eyes in savoring her liquid salvation. "Mmm…" There was a shared silence as she and her mother reveled in that initial sip, okay, gulp of coffee.

That silence lasted all of three seconds.

"So kiddo, how was the torture today?"

"No torture, just…weirdness."

Lorelai 'hmm'ed. "Weirdness? Like our weirdness or Kirk's weirdness?"

Rory snorted lightly. "There is no comparison to Kirk's weirdness."

"True enough, so maybe it'd be better for you to describe the weirdness. That way it can be labeled properly."

Rory launched into a description of her day. It started out normal, and then there was Tristan's return, the endless chatter concerning him, the lack of interaction with her torturer thing, and Paris being…Paris, but less so today. "…so, it was weird."

Lorelai stared at her daughter for a moment before saying anything. "I'm failing to see the weirdness. Aside from Paris' lack of intensity and the return of the Evil One…this should be a good day for you."

Her mother was right. This should have been a good day. A great day even. Dean had greeted her with a happy kiss when she had stepped off the bus; they had a date this weekend. Tristan was back, but he hadn't bothered her at all. Paris hadn't given her a hard time today. It should have been perfect. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right."

"You are not."

"Am so."

"Are not."

"Am so."

"Are not."

"Am so."

"Are not."

"Am so."

"Are **not**. Need I remind you of the time you thought Kirk would be perfectly fine jumping off that roof if he had a cape?"

"That was a theory – no one told him to do that!"

"You paid him!" Rory countered while pointing a finger accusingly at her mother.

Lorelai 'hmph'ed, downing another cup of coffee. "It was only ten bucks. Who jumps off a roof, with only a cape, for ten bucks?"

There was a silence as Rory contemplated this. "Umbrella?"

Lorelai nodded. "Definitely."

They shifted to see Luke giving them a very odd look, as if he was considering shipping them off to the nearest mental facility to get their heads examined. "Was I supposed to follow any of that?"

"No, not really," Lorelai said.

Luke just shook his head. He'd actually being doing pretty well until the umbrella comment threw him off. _New record, _he noted mentally.

"But it'd be great if you did."

"You could be an honorary Gilmore!" Lorelai exclaimed.

Rory looked at her, confused and surprised. "Really? We do that?"

"We do."

"Do what?"

"Do that."

"Umm…"

"The honorary Gilmore thing."

"Oh yeah!"

"They don't work on memory much at that fancy school of yours do they?"

"You went there too."

"So that'd be a 'no' right?"

"Wouldn't you know that?"

"Uh, um, well…sure."

"You don't remember what you learned at Chilton." Not a question, Rory was pretty sure that she knew the answer already.

"Heh…"

"I rest my case."

"So you'll be lawyer when you grow up then? Take care of all of mommy's necessities in life? Food, clothes, shelter, shoes?"

"Shoes are not a necessity in life mom."

Lorelai gasped. "Blasphemy!"

Luke just shook his head as the two continued bickering. _Unbelievable. _But really, he should be used to it by now. Those two were just alike. Two sides of the same coin.

"Okay, low blow!"

A really rare, really weird coin.

* * *

"Tristan?" Mira poked her head in his room for the second time today, just as worried as she had been this morning. The lump in the center of the bed told her that there was either a few pillows shoved under there or Tristan had buried himself in there.

Upon closer inspection of the dark blue comforter, the lump took to a weak rise and fall motion, simulating breathing. Ah, so Tristan **was **under there.

Or not. The boy was rather clever…

"Tristan?" she ventured again. And again, there was no reply.

Mira took a seat next to the lump, slowly tugging down the comforter until a messy halo of blond was revealed. Running her fingers through the always-spiked mess of hair he had, Mira pulled the comforter down a little more. "Tristan. Tristan please say something. I heard yelling…"

Tristan lifted his head a little, giving Mira what he hoped was a reassuring smile. If it was convincing enough, she'd just think he was tired and would leave him be. If not…she'd fuss and worry and he didn't want that. The woman shouldn't have to deal with him on top of all the other work she did around this place.

"Oh Tristan…"

It seemed that his smile was too weak, not reassuring enough to convince her that he was okay. It figured. _She's always been good at seeing right through my acts. _It was comforting that someone cared enough to know him that well, but it was also a little inconvenient for him right now.

She spent too much time worrying over him. Too much time hovering about him…on the bad days. Well, every day was bad here so really, she spend too much time hovering about him on the **really** bad days.

Tristan always feared that she'd get caught fussing over him instead of cleaning or something. His father would be furious. There was no telling what he'd do.

_He'd fire her – that's what he'd do. _And Tristan didn't want that. Mira needed this job. His family paid well and the Spanish maid needed this job to take care of herself and her mother.

Besides that, Tristan really didn't want the woman to go. She had always been so nice to him. And even if her constant mothering was a source of worry for him, he really did like the attention.

No, not the attention, the affection. He liked how she cared for him and comforted him. She was safe, a comfort zone for him. He needed her around. If she ever got fired…he didn't know what he'd do.

"Tristan?"

Oh, she was talking to him. "Hm?"

"I asked what all the yelling was about." _Again_, she added mentally. She kept her voice soft, gentle. Mira was trying to coax Tristan, from under the covers and from behind his partially-donned mask.

Tristan came out from his cocoon of covers just a little. Bending his elbow, the boy propped his head upon his upturned palm. "Oh you know – my worthlessness, my failings in comparing to my oh-so-perfect big brother…you know, the usual."

Mira found that his blasé tone upset her a little. It saddened her that this was really so common to the boy. No one should be so…so accustomed to hearing such things from their own father. "But he sounded quite angry just to be saying those things."

"He was mad about me re-joining the soccer team instead of going for football like my dearest big brother." Tristan's voice was laced with sarcasm, clearly indicating his feelings on the matter. He hoped it was enough sarcasm to keep her from detecting the lie in it. He hated lying to her, but it had to be done right now.

And it was only a half-lie anyway. He was re-joining the soccer team and his brother did play football. Mr. DuGrey did indeed know about him going back to soccer and he did, of course, disapprove. That's just not what the man had been yelling at him about.

"You made the team?" Mira opted to shift the topic a little. The blond boy was growing more disheartened as the conversation went on. The boy didn't want to talk about this right now. Granted, Mira knew Tristan would rather not talk about it ever, but this particular moment in time just wasn't good for him.

Mentally, the young woman scolded herself for bringing it up. _I should know better by now. _Mira tried to make a habit out of waiting a bit **after **the lectures before bringing them out. Usually a day, but she was just so **worried**. It had been too much to resist. She had had to check on him immediately. Tristan could act like the cold lectures and belittling just rolled off his back now, but Mira saw straight through it.

Tristan didn't notice the shift at first, but when he caught it Mira was given a tiny smile of gratitude. He really didn't want to go over what happened. And Mira didn't need to see the results either. So he smiled and told her about how the coach and the team had practically begged for him to come back. He told her about how he'd be going to his first practice of the year some time in the next few weeks.

He smiled because hearing these things made her smile. It made Mira think that there was at least some light in his life. That it was enough. And truthfully, and it was enough. These little things – Mira, soccer…they were enough.

For now.

* * *

And behold…the end of this chapter! Review with constructive criticism or comments/questions please!


	3. Suspicions

**How to Save a Life**

* * *

_Standard Disclaimers Apply._

* * *

_Review Responses:_

distorted realities

_Yes, poor Tristan. That means I'm accomplishing my goal, making an angsty Tristan. You'll see what's going on in future chapters._

Tonje

_I'm glad you like the story and I'm doubly glad that you like my writing!_

LoVe23

_You are, again, correct! I'm glad you liked the last chapter. Here's some more for you!_

nemo123489

_It's good that you liked the last chapter, but I have a feeling that you'll be changing your mind about that second sentence..._

Curley-Q

_Yes, even though the plan is to torture him, I still don't want him to suffer **and **be completely alone. Not in this fic anyway..._

* * *

------- … scene change/break

_  
///Flashback///_…flashback start

_  
///End///_…flashback end

_  
Italics _… thoughts

**  
Bold **… emphasis

* * *

How to Save a Life: Chapter 3: Suspicions

* * *

Tristan walked into school early the next day, wanting to avoid as many people as possible. It was too much right now. He just wanted to be alone for a little while, but with his given status as 'King of Chilton' it was often nearly impossible.

Who even came up with that – calling him the 'King of Chilton'? It hadn't been him. He didn't even reign over all the grades, not really. The school was split up into two divisions: freshman and sophomores; juniors and seniors.

He was just a sophomore so really…he shouldn't have that title. It implied that he ruled the juniors and seniors too. Of course, Tristan had no idea what his standing up there was. He was fairly sure that his elder 'sibling', or 'that older guy that came with that much older lady a few years ago', ruled that particular realm.

He was a junior though, so that wasn't really right either…hm. Go figure. Actually, there was a small set of people that 'ruled' on that side and the elder DuGrey boy was one of them. But it was the same concept.

Sure, plenty of juniors and seniors hit on Tristan. And yes, he was pretty much the best player on the soccer team, second only to a junior on the team named Jace. But that didn't mean he was their king though, right?

Tristan halted during his trek to the library. _Why am I even thinking about this? _Was he seriously that bored? Tristan looked around the empty campus, knowing he was the only one there.

Yeah, he was bored, but there should be something else he could think about. Re-adjusting his bookbag, Tristan continued to head for the library.

Mira had been worried when she came in at six in the morning to find Tristan up, dressed, and ready to go. School wasn't for another two hours. _"You should be happy," _he'd told her. _"I'm actually up on time for once – early even!" _But she hadn't been happy. She had pressed a hand to his forehead, asking if he felt sick.

That, in itself, was ridiculous. Tristan never got sick. Okay, so he **rarely **got sick. And when he did, it was really bad. Once, he'd been rushed to the hospital after the pretty Latina had found him on the floor of his bathroom, burning up and delirious due to a nasty fever. To her credit, Mira had handled the situation with grace, keeping a delirious Tristan calm and humoring his nonsensical talk until the medics arrived.

_Father was out of town with...that wench and her kid if I remember correctly. _Who was he kidding? Of course he remembered correctly. Tristan's memory was practically flawless. Tristan looked at his watch, wondering how much time he had killed with pointless remembrances of this morning's antics and the thoughts that branched from it. The blond boy sighed.

_6:45 a.m._

* * *

This was wrong, all wrong. He wasn't supposed to be here. He didn't **do **early mornings, especially not at **school**. He was supposed to be at home, considering whether or not he even wanted to come to school. He should have been in his room deciding how many buttons he would leave undone on his shirt today. He should have been…have been ushering out his latest conquest – **something, _anything _**other than being here.

Rory Gilmore, to say the least, was highly shocked to find a certain blond boy in the library early Tuesday morning. He was…reading.

Tristan DuGrey, King of Chilton, was sitting the school** library**…**early**, **_reading a book_**. This…wasn't right. It couldn't be right. Rory could hardly comprehend the extent of her disbelief, but for some reason, she just couldn't believe her eyes. It seemed so out-of-character for him. Not that she knew him him to a 'T' or anything, but certainly well enough to know that - _I'm rambling to myself_, she noted to herself.

_I'm dreaming_, she decided.

This wasn't happening. She was at home, still in her bed, and her mother would come in at any moment and wake her up. That is, if that obnoxious chicken alarm clock Lorelai had given her last Christmas as a gag gift hadn't managed to do it. Yes, that annoying clucking, the clucking that didn't cease until the clock was viciously knocked to the floor, should force her to snap out of this.

Rory waited…and waited…and waited. It was **Paris Gellar **that was supposed to be meeting her here to discuss the paper they had due **two weeks** from now.

But that was Paris for you, always ready to get the jump on things. The blonde would probably want it done about one week early. Rory sighed, covering her mouth when she realized she had done it out loud.

Tristan looked up at her and Rory braced herself for a lewd remark, probably something about her stalking him or watching him in secret and fantasizing about a sexual encounter right here in the library. She blushed lightly, but managed to force it away. Mostly.

Rory waited…and waited…and waited...again. But Tristan didn't say anything. In fact, all she heard was a sigh. By the time she looked back at him after staring at the library's **fascinating **wallpaper and whatnot, Tristan was reading again.

An alien feeling swept through Rory. A feeling that she would have never associated with Tristan.

The brunette stood there for a minute longer, debating whether she should say something. 'Hi.' maybe? 'Welcome back.' perhaps? She didn't want to bait him, but then again…she did. If he was going to be around he could at least be, um, 'himself'.

"Tristan?"

* * *

Paris Gellar was on a mission. There was a paper due in History on the Civil War and she was supposed to cover it with Rory Gilmore. While she could only half-stand the girl, Gellar was somewhat relieved that it was Rory and no one else.

At the very least, Gellar could admit – begrudgingly of course – that the girl got her work done. Rory wasn't a slacker and would do her share. And…Rory did have the fourth highest grade point average in their class.

So, to get this paper over with, Paris had informed Rory that they would be meeting in the library early today to set the ground rules: where to meet – alternate houses or at the library; how to split up the work; how they'd do revisions; how much time would go to research; etc. You know – the basics.

It would all be very simple and they'd be done discussing these things before classes actually started an hour from now. Rory was always prompt and on time. In fact, Paris would bet the girl had managed to beat her there.

_Ugh._ She hated it when people got somewhere before she did. Especially for school-related things. That was fine for now though because it wouldn't happen again.

Paris imagined that Rory would be sitting at a table, waiting, probably reading one of her precious books that she always seemed to be carrying **everywhere **she went. That's what Paris was expecting.

So imagine Paris' surprise when she found that Rory was there, but not exactly ready. No, the girl was just **standing there**, staring stupidly at something. She had her bag/purse clutched to her front as if the person before would either steal it or as if it would protect her from an attack of some sort. _What the heck is she looking at?_

Paris, naturally, barged forward, nudging – okay, pushing – Rory aside. Paris, too, found herself staring stupidly, but not for long.

"Tristan?" The boy in question looked up as if there was nothing odd about him being here. In fact, he was looking at the two of them as if **they **weren't supposed to be here.

There was a silence before the blond boy said, "You **do **know my first name then."

_Smartass._ Paris placed her hands on her hips, getting a little riled up as he simply smirked at her as if he was amused by this. Which he was, of course. "Don't start with me DuGrey."

"Ah, so we're back to last names then." He marked his place in the book he had, quite a thick one it was, and turned the chair so that he was facing them. The boy then tipped the chair back, balancing on the back legs. "Something I can help you two lovely ladies with?" he queried innocently.

Innocently – yeah right.

"Yes, you can tell us why you're here for starters." Rory seemed to have gathered her wits now.

Now ordinarily, Tristan would have said something like 'Waiting for you Mary.' and throw in a dirty smirk or something. But not this time. Instead, the boy gave Rory a blank look, holding up his book. "Reading – I'd thought you would have noticed that when you first came in here."

"You read?"

"Yes, just a hobby I picked up from you I suppose," he replied dryly.

Defensive. Paris may not have been close to Tristan anymore, but she could still read him. Sort of. There had been a bite to that sarcasm, signaling that the blond was offended.

Something was off though. Normally, Tristan would have just shrugged it all off. Normally, Tristan would have come up with something dirty to say. Tristan hadn't been acting very 'normal' lately.

"Yes, but why so early? And why here? I thought you only liked to read at home." Paris had opted to take over this questioning. She normally wasn't one to smooth things over between anyone, but she knew what Tristan could be like when he felt cornered or was pissed off. It was too early to deal with a moody Tristan. Besides that, she had noted the forming dark circles under her former best friend's eyes. His hair was more mussed than usual, as though he hadn't fussed with it at all. Maybe he never did… Anyway, it just looked like he couldn't deal with being moody either. So Paris chose to save them all some trouble and try to ease out of this conversation/start of an argument.

"Change of heart," he said simply. _I have no 'home' to read in or at anyway_, the blond thought miserably to himself.

"Oh, well then…carry on then DuGrey." With that Paris went to another part of the library, leaving Rory to stare at Tristan. She heard him bait the girl though. Paris sighed to herself. _Couldn't help it. Typical._

"See something you like Mary?" the blond asked. _Just can't help yourself can you? _a mental voice queried.

Without missing a beat, she heard Rory come back with "Nope, I don't see much of anything really."

Ouch. Paris looked back to see an obviously satisfied Rory walking after her. The Chiltonite peered above a row of books to see Tristan staring at the spot Rory had been standing. He then turned back to his book, only to slam it closed and lay his head on the table.

Yes…Tristan was acting very odd and she **would **be getting to the bottom of it.

* * *

Tristan sighed. That was a disaster. He'd been fine until Rory had walked in and stared at him as though he was violating federal law by being there. It might have been shocking to see him there, reading, but did she have to say it?

And that last barb… _"Nope, I don't see much of anything really." _That had stung a bit more than he'd thought it would. He should be used to hearing such things. Tristan **was **used to hearing such things. But coming from Rory…it hurt so much more.

He wished he could take the time to express how he really felt to her. He wished he knew how. But experience with what he felt for Rory was not something Tristan had. Expressing it properly seemed to be incredibly close to impossible and it was killing him.

Tristan had stared at the spot she had been standing at for a few seconds, savoring the image of her lightly blushing at…at…well, he wasn't sure what the blush was in response to. It was so easy to get her to blush…it could have been just about anything. Tristan guessed it was from being caught standing there that way without saying anything.

He pictured her petite, but increasingly curvy frame – it was filling out you know – wrapped up in a big coat and scarf, her uniform hiding it further. Her coat reached low, down to her knees, but he could still see the lower half of those amazing legs of hers.

Her delicate little hands were protected from the cold by a pair of gloves. The cold had splashed a lovely rose tint to her fair cheeks. Her lips…oh her lips were glossy and just begging to be kissed. Ah, Tristan could just feel the slap he'd get for that right now. She was just so **beautiful**. Then he recalled Paris' seemingly random arrival and then the mental savoring was over.

Paris.

A possible problem for him. She was suspicious of him, really suspicious now, and he could tell. She'd probably come around questioning him later. _I'll have to avoid her. _

It seemed like a bad idea though. She was in **all** of his classes except that physical education class third period. The girl even had study hall when he did, meaning she'd have plenty of time to hunt him down if she so desired.

And it wasn't like he was a hard guy to find either. A bad point about being the 'King of Chilton' was that there was rarely any time that no one could find you. And he sort of stood out a little too. Sure, there were plenty of tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed guys with a build similar to his. But, as several girls had told him in the past, _"They aren't you."_

Tristan was tall, had a nice upper build, definitely nice muscle formation in the legs (if you ever saw them), intense ice blue eyes, messy blond spikes, improperly worn uniform, unique swagger-slash-walk, his trademark smirk, and a near-constant crowd of groupies…he was hard to miss.

Even when he wasn't crowded by a group of people, he still stood out somehow. He could drop the smirk, but his manner of walking was second-nature now – there was no changing. He didn't want to dye his hair or change the style – which was no style at all, just him toweling it off after a shower in the morning and after gym.

Tristan refused to wear non-prescription colored contacts – the tiny half-spheres were too much trouble to deal with every day and night. The build stayed and there was no way for him to change his height. He supposed he could actually wear his uniform correctly, but he didn't want to do that either – too much effort and…he had his reasons.

But anyway, Paris was onto him. Tristan knew that much. She'd hound him until she found out what was going on. If she knew, she'd immediately try to rekindle their tight bond from years before. Tristan couldn't have that. He'd had good reason to break off their friendship before, really he had.

_If we become friends again…_ His thoughts trailed off and the boy shook his head. Bad idea.

* * *

End of chapter! Read and review please and I'll see you next time!


	4. Something Strange

**How to Save a Life**

* * *

_Standard Disclaimers Apply._

* * *

Review Responses:

heavenleigh88

_I'm glad you're enjoying this. Your wish shall be granted...after much angst and several failed relationships. XD_

Curley-Q

_Thank you!_

nemo123489

_Here's your update. _

chocaholic

_Lol, thank you authorized awesomeness..judge. I'm glad you like my writing; that's just as important as liking the fic, if not moreso. So thanks!_

nIcKeLrEy

_Yes, pity poor Tristan. (pats Tristan on the head) He'll have a few try to help him, a few fail miserably, but only one shall save him in the end! _

LoVe23

_Aw..don't die on me..lol People will figure it out in pieces, but they'll have to put them together to figure out what's going with the DuGrey family, Tristan in particular. Yes, mean Rory. I don't mean for her to seem..mean, but I'm trying to show how ignorance is not always bliss. Here, her obliviousness to..many things is going to do some serious damage._

* * *

------- … scene change/break

///Flashback///…flashback start

///End///…flashback end

_Italics _… thoughts

**Bold **… emphasis

* * *

How to Save a Life: Chapter 4: Something Strange

* * *

"Something strange is going on."

Rory looked up from the sandwich she had been nibbling on while reading. The brunette had opted to sit at a table with them today. Actually, Louise and Madeline had spotted her outside and dragged her in.

After that they went into a long tirade about how they were feeling neglected and that friends were supposed to sit together and all that, Rory had been informed that she was now required to come and sit with them at least two days out of the week. It had been three, but a long look from Paris had chopped it off to two. Rory was grateful. Mostly.

She and Paris were okay, but…not close enough for extended exposure to each other repeatedly. But back to Louise's statement. "What do you mean?"

"Tristan. Something's off with him."

Madeline nodded in agreement and Paris said nothing. Rory assumed the girl was ignoring them in favor of wrinkling her nose at the bag of greasy chips before her. Rory would normally utter some sort of sound that indicated agreement and go back to reading. But not today. Today Rory marked her place and paid a bit of attention. "You noticed too?"

Three sets of eyes swerved over to her and Rory flushed a little. "What? I've ran into him."

"When?" Madeline asked.

"This morning."

Louise gave her a considering look, bordering on suspicion. "Not yesterday?"

"Um…we didn't speak yesterday."

"Ohh…" the twosome said together.

Rory frowned. "What do you mean 'ohhh…'?"

Louise gave her a look that was normally accompanied by patting the addressee's head. Rory was, fortunately, spared from this. "Tristan must still be hung up on you then."

Rory rolled her eyes. She had thought this would be dropped. _Guess not. _"Will you guys get off that? Tristan DuGrey has never had any interest in me beyond making me another one of his conquests – just one of many."

"No really, he does like you Rory."

"Tristan isn't capable of 'liking' someone. Guys like him don't 'like', they 'lust'. And though I have no idea why he had to pick me the first time around, and even if he's still planning to chase me again, I doubt anything has changed. Same old boy, same old story, same old game." Pause. "And I have a **still **have a boyfriend."

Rory felt a tinge of guilt at how that was added. It was almost like an afterthought. Since when was her boyfriend just an afterthought?

A silence descended upon the table and Rory snapped out of her thoughts long enough to frown at the girls' blank expressions. Even Paris, who sat across from her, was staring at her funny. "What?"

Paris was the first to enlighten her. The girl cleared her throat and said, "Hello Tristan."

* * *

Rory tensed up, slowly turning her head…and blinked.

No one was there.

_Huh? _Why had they been acting like he was right behind her? Rory heard Louise cough. The girl reached over and turned Rory's head the other way.

No, Tristan wasn't standing behind her. But he was behind Madeline, who was right next to her.

_Oh no…_ She hadn't meant for him to hear that. Nevermind the fact that it shouldn't matter to her. That brief flash of hurt had Rory feeling slightly guilty for tearing into him that way, even if she didn't think he was there.

But that brief flash had been just that – brief. It was gone so quickly that Rory was starting to wonder if she had seen it at all. His blue eyes revealed nothing as he sat himself next to an excited Madeline and threw an arm around her shoulder.

"I never did get to welcome you back Tristan…"

The blond boy flashed that signature 'King of Chilton'™ smile, blue eyes flooding with whatever was floating in his mind at the moment. It was probably amusement. "Oh and I do feel oh-so-welcome Madeline."

Louise's attention was, of course, on Tristan. "Have you been feeling okay Tristan?"

There was a momentary flash of 'oh crap' on his face, but no one caught it. No one except Paris. "I'm…fine. Why?"

"I've just been wondering about you… You've been awfully quiet since coming back and I heard that you don't even want a proper 'Welcome Back' party."

"Oh, that. I'm just getting back into the swing of things, seeing what's changed or hasn't changed." That, Rory supposed, was to explain his non-sociable behavior as of late.

"And the party?"

Tristan shrugged. "I just don't want one. There's already that stuffy one being thrown this weekend."

"But that's **socialite** stuff our parents force on us, those don't really count Tristan. You need a **Chiltonite** party."

The boy sighed, but was obviously caving. "I don't want one, but since you obviously need an excuse to throw a big party with your parents out-of-town this week–"

Louise's mouth dropped and she broke in. "How did you even know that?"

"I have my ways," he said smoothly. "I may have been gone for a while, but nothing remains secret from me for long. I heard that you've been on lockdown for a while and were looking for a reason to do something big when your parents finally decided to get lost in the Bahamas this week. And don't think that I don't know you're in on this party too Madeline."

Both girls folded their arms and pouted. _Busted. _"Okay, so you caught us. Does that mean you'll have the party then?" Louise asked with batting eyelashes.

Rory rolled her eyes, as did Paris. The latter of the two started to speak up, "That doesn't even make sense. Figuring out your scheming doesn't mean he'll now want the party. Tristan doesn't –"

"Okay."

All four girls stared at the blond. "What?"

Tristan glanced at Paris, who was covering her surprise. His ice blue eyes then went back to Louise. "I said 'okay'. You can use my return to back up your party this week."

"**Yes!**" Madeline and Louise shared a high-five before Madeline used this opportunity to scoot closer to Tristan, who still had his arm around her casually.

"You rock Tristan."

Flashing them both that 'King of Chilton'™ smile again, the boy stood up. "Of course I do ladies, of course I do."

"You're not staying?" a disappointed Maddie asked.

Tristan disentangled her hand from the edge of his un-tucked shirt. "I'm afraid not. My job here – ensuring that I never leave an unsatisfied girl behind me– is complete." He looked down. "Are you two not satisfied?"

Louise and Maddie giggled and nodded. Of course they were. Louise pointed to Paris and Maddie pointed at Rory. "What about them?"

Tristan eyed Paris. "I saved you from Eric earlier – you should be eternally satisfied." Paris shot the blond boy a sour look, but said nothing to refute it.

Eric, a boy on the basketball team, had shown an inordinate interest keeping Paris from her locker after second period. She let him have it verbally, but he seemed to like it somehow. Agitated, Paris had been trying to think of way to get Eric to get lost when Tristan had shown up.

Paris still didn't know what Tristan had whispered to the dark-haired boy, but whatever it had been, it had worked. Eric's eyes had widened and the boy had immediately left after offering up a speedy apology. Paris had proceeded to open her locker without a second thought. The idea of saying 'thank you' or something had occurred to her, but Tristan had already walked off at that point.

Now back to the present.

"And as for you…" Tristan turned to Rory. "I'm leaving, which means you'll be satisfied as well." There was a bite to that and all four of the girls felt it. He offered all four of them a smirk, as if nothing was amiss. "See? My job **is **done. And now I bid you lovely ladies farewell." With a dramatic bow, Tristan left the table and then the cafeteria altogether.

* * *

The whole lunch room seemed to be watching him go, including – for once – Rory Gilmore.

"I told you something was up," Maddie said.

"Actually that was me," Louise interjected. "But at least we'll have our party and he'll be there."

Paris was all-too-happy to shoot this down. "In case you didn't notice, which apparently you two didn't," – _Surprise, surprise, _Paris thought. – "DuGrey did not agree to come. He only said, and I quote, 'You can use my return to back up your party this week.' He made no mention of making an appearance."

Madeline was upset about it, but Louise waved it off. "Details, details. I'll take care of that."

Maddie looked at her. "How?"

Louise smiled sweetly. "Trust me Maddie, he'll be there."

"But how do you know?"

"Because Paris will force him to go," she said simply.

Choking could be heard.

Paris glared at Louise. "**Excuse me?** I'll do **what**?"

"You'll do it. After all, he's the reason you'll be 'suffering' through yet another party. In the middle of the week at that.."

Paris frowned. "I never agreed to go."

"Maybe, but once your mother hears of this 'big **social **event' with lots of **guys **and **fun**…"

Paris stood, hands planted on the tabletop. "You wouldn't **dare**," she said lowly.

"If it'll get Tristan there, you bet I will," came the smug reply. "Now, you can either wallow through the party over someone who isn't even there or you can make DuGrey go too."

"And what do I get for doing that?"

_Score_, Louise thought. Then she blanked out. She didn't know what to give Paris. "Um…I don't know. What do you want?"

_Bingo_. Paris smirked an eerily familiar smirk. "I'll let you know." And with that, the girl left, obviously not as upset anymore.

Louise and Madeline watched her go. "I have a bad feeling about this…" Madeline said.

Rory shook her head. Paris was good to turn things around like that. Just thinking about all the things she could demand in return for dragging Tristan to the party… Rory shuddered. _Paris can be pretty…well it's Paris. There's no telling what she'll want…_

* * *

Elsewhere…

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. _Tristan was currently scolding himself by banging his head against the table. _That was so stupid. _At first, he hadn't even wanted lunch. All he planned on doing was watching the girl of his dreams read quietly outside for a little while and then going to the library to hide out there.

But that changed when he spied the fair brunette being dragged inside by Madeline and Louise. Paris, Louise, Madeline, and Rory – a quartet he never expected to see together. He was looking for a distraction, any distraction from his spiraling thoughts at the time. Being by himself, no matter how much he wanted it, had not been a good idea.

So…a distraction.

For a while, Rory was a great distraction. After all, watching her had worked yesterday. But after this morning's events, watching her only made him feel worse. But this little quartet here…it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

It had been fine. He waltzed over, intending to sit by his 'Mary'. That is, until he overheard her talking about someone. Him.

"_Tristan isn't capable of just 'liking' someone."_ Stab number one.

"_Guys like him don't 'like', they 'lust'."_ Stab number two.

"…_I doubt anything has changed. Same old boy, same old story, same old game."_ And oooh the pain – stab number three, we're dead.

It had hurt, though, again, he should have been used to these things. But, **again**, it was Rory, so it hurt. That hurt showed before he viciously stomped it out. Forget her. She was right anyway. _Same old story. _Nothing had changed.

Rory had frozen as she realized he was there. Expression blank, he had ignored her and sat by Madeline instead of her. The girl was quick to sidle up to him, flirtatious as ever. Now **this **was a distraction. This could work.

Or so he had thought… When Louise had asked if he'd been feeling okay, Tristan had felt himself freeze up. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't speak. How…wait, **wait**…she didn't know anything. It was ridiculous to think that she did. His father was way too secretive for anything to have leaked out… _I can play this off._

And he had done wonderfully until he ended up talking himself into a party. _Crap. _So he said his farewells with a parting shot at 'Mary'. That was to keep himself from doing or saying anything else stupid.

But now, as he sat in the library thinking, Tristan realized that there was a loophole. He said that they could have the party for him. _I never said I would go! _Tristan left a sigh of relief. He wouldn't have to go, which meant that…

_I'll be stuck at home._

Okay, maybe this wasn't so good. Didn't want to be at home, didn't want to be at the party…

"Agh!" Tristan raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. The party was a solid alibi…_But I can't go, I can't._

Tristan laid his head on the table. "What am I going to do?" Tristan lifted his head, almost in a panic when he noticed that he wasn't alone. He blinked at the 'intruder', speechless for once. What was she doing here?

"I can tell you **exactly **what you're going to do DuGrey."

_Paris…_

* * *

End of chapter people! Will Paris use her powers of 'Parisness' to force Tristan to go? Will she stop there or can Tristan escape before she starts in on him? What the heck is wrong with Tristan – aside from what's already known - anyway? Review and you might just find out!


	5. Reminders of the Fallout

**How to Save a Life**

* * *

_Standard Disclaimers Apply._

* * *

_Review Responses_:

Claire Henry

_Glad you like the story! Yeah, I love Tristan, so I focused on him...and torturing him of course. Mmm..glad you picked up on the personality blend - good job!_

LoVe23

_Well, here's what Paris is going to do! Enjoy._

kris

_lol, there shall be no shoving! Glad you thought of adding this to your alerts! Aww...don't die! This may be a Trory...eventually... Bwahahahaha!_

marynotace

_Yes, our poor little Tristan. And I'm not even done with him yet!_

chocaholic

_Nah, I don't plan on killing him. Key word: Plan. I'm not sure where this story is going...but please don't kill me.. And you're welcome._

nemo123489

_Here's your update!_

LifeLookingDown

_I'll never tell..._

Curley-Q

_And here's the continuation!_

* * *

------- … scene change/break

_Flashback_…flashback start

_End_…flashback end

_Italics _… thoughts

**Bold **… emphasis

* * *

How to Save a Life: Chapter 5: Reminders of the Fall Out

* * *

_Last time..._

_"I can tell you **exactly **what you're going to do DuGrey."_

Paris…

* * *

This was definitely one of those 'oh shit' moments.

Paris stood there in all her intimidating glory, hands on her hands, blocking the only exit from this area of the library.

He felt trapped, like he was in a really bad horror movie and the killer had come for him. Tristan just stared, barely able to keep his mouth from dropping. _How did she even find me?_

"What are you doing here?" he asked her.

Paris said nothing. She was a girl on a mission and nothing would stop her. Tristan DuGrey **would **be going to that party if it was the last thing she did.

Paris refused to be stuck at yet another pointless party being thrown for someone who wasn't even there. And she most certainly would not lose this perfect opportunity to blackmail the crap out of Louise and Madeline.

"You mean how did I find you?"

The boy nodded.

"I have a DuGrey radar of course," she said.

For some reason, Tristan found that completely believable. "Right," he said after composing himself. "What can I do for you Paris?"

"Like you don't know." She realized two seconds too late that she had left herself open for whatever Tristan could think of right now. _Crap. _

Tristan gave her a smirk that made her shiver a little on the inside. He propped his head on an upturned hand, balancing on his bent elbow. "I always did imagine that you'd be into the whole school library fantasy." He smirked. "Never thought you'd proposition me this way though."

She blushed lightly and Tristan grinned. Now this was something he could distract himself with – a blushing Paris. "You'll tell me what to do? Bossy." Throwing in a sexy smirk, he added, "I like it."

Paris fought down her returning blush. "That…that was **not **was I was talking about and you know it."

"Sure, Paris, sure…"

Huffing, Paris marched up to the blond. "It's not. I was talking about the party you're letting Madeline and Louise throw for you two nights from now."

_Two nights from now? Man, that's quick. _But it was supposed to be before the weekend so…it made sense he guessed. He made a face at her and leaned back. "What about it?"

"They're making me go."

He smirked at her misfortune. "Is that so? I'm so sorry to hear that Paris."

"It's your fault."

Tristan could see how Paris, of all people, would come to that conclusion and decide that he should be informed of it. "Okay…so?"

"So I demand compensation."

The smirk was back and Paris felt like kicking herself. Why did she keep walking into these things?

"Compensation? I can do that." He grabbed Paris' hand and pulled her closer to him. "What do you want me to do?" he asked in a low voice while still holding her hand.

Paris was very proud of herself. She did not feel any heat rushing up to her face. _I've got it now. _That is, her ability to stay composed – even with Tristan's arms so close to wrapping around her. "Come to the party."

Tristan immediately let go of her. "No way."

Paris blinked at the other boy's plain refusal and the disappearance of his touch too. "What do you mean 'No way'? It's your party – you have to go."

"Actually, no, I don't. And furthermore, I'm not." He wasn't in the mood for any parties this week. Not this week. Maybe never again. Year after year and it never got any better…

"What are you thinking about?" She had watched him carefully after he repeated his refusal. She could still read him decently enough. Not as well as she used to, but enough to know that something was up. He looked so tired all of a sudden.

And he still hadn't answered her.

"Tristan?"

"Nothing." _This can't be good…_

Paris' eyes narrowed. "You're lying to me. What's been going on with you lately?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." The walls were going strong – he wasn't telling her anything. It kind of hurt that she didn't already know. That she didn't even remember… _But you lied, so she doesn't really have anything to remember, now does she?! _his mind scolded.

_It wasn't me! _

A mental scoff from an inner voice. _Might as well have been._

"You've been quiet, withdrawn even, you've been snapping at your precious **Mary**–"

"That's not tr–"

"–I don't want to hear that! It is true. Whenever she says something cutting to you, you used to just let it slide and come back with something dirty – now you snap back, and don't think that I can't hear the very real bite in it. You've been blowing off your groupies, guy and girl alike, and now you don't even want to go out for your own party."

He wasn't looking at her. _I have to get out of here. She's saying too much…asking too many questions. _"I'm just not in the mood."

"That's crap and you know it! We may not be best friends anymore, but I still know when something is wrong with you. Now **talk**."

"I have nothing to say." The boy stood up, planning to just make his way by Paris and out of here.

Paris stood in his way. Every time he tried to shift to the left, she was there. When he made for the right, she was there. She was onto something; she could tell by the way he was clamming up on her.

The King of Chilton was gone. DuGrey wasn't here. This was just Tristan she was dealing with now._ I'm not backing down._

Tristan could practically **feel **the determination from this girl. She was on a mission, and when Paris was on a mission, she always followed through. _Why her? Why couldn't Louise or Madeline have begged me to go to the party? _It would have been over by now.

In fact, both girls wouldn't have found him in the first place. He was in the library. Tristan doubted that they even knew where the library was.

Not that those two were stupid or anything, they just happened to avoid this building like the plague. _"Bad for our skin," _Madeline would say. _"Bad for our rep." _Louise would add. Why the 'our'? Because the two girls were **always **together. Ever since they were kids, Louise and Madeline had been inseparable. _Just like Paris and I used to be, _he thought sadly.

But back to Paris. He tried to give her a smile, a smirk, anything that would tell her all was well. It came off weak, but he didn't care. He just wanted out. "Just let it go Gellar."

"We're on last names now?"

"It seems to work just fine for you."

"Well – don't change the subject! You're not throwing me off."

"Why do you even care?" he asked suddenly, a minor surge of anger flowing through him.

Paris said nothing, obviously caught off guard.

"Why does it even matter to you? Why do **I **matter all of a sudden? I don't affect your grades or activities or chances at Harvard and your dream of being in the news business! This has nothing to do with you!"

"Don't you dare pretend like **I **just suddenly stopped caring one day!" she yelled back. A bit of long bottled-up hurt and confusion was leaking out, but not all of it. Just a taste. "It was **you**!"

"So?"

Paris just stared. "'So?' That's all you can say?"

"It doesn't matter Paris. **I **don't matter. If it means that you'll leave me be, I'll go to the stupid party." _Anything to stop this interrogation. _Assuming that she'd be satisfied to let him go, Tristan moved to go around the blonde.

"No." She blocked him yet again.

"Excuse me?" _You've got to be kidding me. _"You have what you want. It's over and done with – mission accomplished."

The dark blonde-haired girl shook her head. "No, we're not done yet." Now was as good a time as any. "I want the truth. I want to know why you broke off our friendship all those years ago." _Might as well get all that I can in one shot. _

"What difference does it make?" He shrugged, as if waving off the entire matter. "And besides, we were just kids, I can hardly remember my reasoning for it."

"You're lying – your memory has always been flawless."

"So you find me partly flawless?"

"Don't even try it DuGrey."

"I thought last name usage was being forbidden."

"Quit trying to take this off-topic."

"I can't take this off-topic because there **is no** topic. There is nothing for us to talk about."

Paris sighed in frustration. "There **is **something to talk about; you just refuse to talk about it!"

"Thank you Ms. Obvious," came the sarcastic reply.

"Why won't you just tell me? I'm sure that whatever reason you had isn't going to end the world if you share it with me."

_If you only knew… _Tristan shook his head. "I can't."

_Why is he being so __**stubborn**?! _"You mean you won't," Paris corrected as she folded her arms.

Tristan shook his head yet again. He moved forward and, in a strategic move that he knew would greatly distract the girl, hugged Paris. The boy laid his head on top of the seemingly frozen girl.

Paris stood there, suitably shocked into stunned silence and immobilization. She didn't know what to do, say, or think. Tristan DuGrey, her former best friend and the current source of her frustration, was **hugging **her.

"I can't," he repeated softly. Tristan went around Paris and, this time, was able to leave.

The bell rang, but Paris hardly noticed.

_"I can't."_

* * *

And there's another chapter for you, along with another burning question! Why **did **Tristan break off his childhood friendship with Paris? Why can't he tell her? And, of course, what the heck is wrong with Tristan anyway?? Review and maybe, just maybe, you'll get a hint. If I get enough reviews, perhaps you'll get an actual answer to one of these, and other, questions!

Until the next time,

ChiChi


	6. Talking in Circles

**How to Save a Life**

* * *

_Standard Disclaimers Apply._

* * *

_Review Responses:_

tiffanyco

_Ideas? I love ideas! Feel free to express them to me, you might just sway the direction of this story! Or perhaps you'll use them for your own fiction...? More hints are to come! And next chapter...well, you'll just have to wait and see!_

Anonemity

_No need to make him cry - I can do that for you! Go ahead and hug him though (pats Tristan on the head) he'll be needing all the comfort he can get by the time I'm through with him. XD Enjoy!_

LoVe23

_Don't die! I have another chapter for you!_

Curley-Q

_No probs on the banter, love the stuff. I'm glad to know that it came out alright. As for Tristan's issues..they're about a mile long. And this chapter just teases! XD_

Fallen Heart

_Yes, yes, enjoy the mystery. But don't worry, things will come together. Glad to know I'm doing a good job! Enjoy!_

mfastner

_I'm glad it interests you so! Hopefully you'll be back for more next chapter - Enjoy!_

Claire Henry

_Here's your update!_

chocs

_You think about my story off-line? Awesome! Not that I mean to torment you continually...much. Here's the next chapter, which shall be closely followed by another!_

nemo123489

_Thank you!_

* * *

------- … scene change/break

_---Flashback---_…flashback start

_---End---_…flashback end

_Italics _… thoughts

**Bold **… emphasis

* * *

How to Save a Life: Chapter 6: Talking in Circles

* * *

Tristan sat in the corner, on a single-seat couch, nursing a cup of what he assumed was punch. Okay, so he knew it was spiked, but he didn't know **what **it was spiked **with**.

He was alone and wanted to keep it that way, hence the single-seater. That, however, did not seem to stop girls from perching upon the arms of the chair. It seemed that some girls felt that they needed to reintroduce themselves by reintroducing their bottoms to his lap.

_Must have missed that memo._ Some of the bolder ones must have gotten that particular memorandum, as they made themselves comfortable on his lap when they came to 'say hey'.

"Hey Tristan."

_Wow. Just…wow. _Tristan was leaning back in the chair. Ah, another bold one. He took a healthy gulp of his 'punch'. "Hello Louise."

She giggled – he had no idea what was so funny though. "Whatcha' doin'?"

That particular manner of speech, the slurring in just those two words told Tristan two things. One – Louise was tipsy and, with a few more drinks, would be well on her way to being completely wasted; and two – she wouldn't be leaving him alone for at least ten minutes.

"Nothing, Louise, nothing." The boy sighed. He didn't want to be here. His eyes sought out the blonde responsible for his presence.

* * *

Paris felt that she was being watched from her position against the wall. Eventually, her eyes fell upon the piercing baby blues that were glaring her down. Ah, it was the unhappy camper. Well he could shove it because she wasn't happy either.

_He's just so **stubborn**._ Paris wondered when her former partner-in-crime had become so…so…**secretive**. His misery was palpable. For the briefest of moments, Paris had felt a smidgeon of guilt for forcing him out here.

Then that guilt had dissipated. He was partially at fault here too. He had no right to look at her so sadly one minute and then act as he usually did th next. Taunting her with bits and pieces of who he used to be... He deserved to suffer through this party just as she was. It was funny, the idea of the King of Chilton **suffering **through a party. His party at that. Of course, it seemed he'd be using a little alcohol to dull his boredom. Well, that and Louise.

There had been threats of her showing up at his place if she beat him there. But, to her surprise, Tristan had been there before her. In fact, he had been at the 'punch' bowl. After that, he took a seat.

From then on the boy had remained there, sitting in that same spot all night. No matter how many guys asked if he wanted in on a game or two of pool or beer pong. No matter how many girls approached him. Nothing fazed the blond.

He just sat there.

Well, there was one exception. Tristan would get up for another cup of punch. Idly, Paris wondered just how many cups he'd had. Tristan seemed sober enough at the moment. Then again, the boy was **quite** the little actor these days…

It still bothered her, their argument at school. Why wouldn't he just tell her? Was it so horrible? Did he not have a reason? Did he have a reason and was just that disinclined in telling her? What was it? Paris hated not knowing things, especially things that involved her.

_I'll get to the bottom of this,_ Paris vowed. She hadn't realized that the all too mysterious demise of their friendship had bothered her so much until now. It was just something she had filed away in the 'One-Time Consideration' part of her brain. Something she had tried to figure out, failed to figure out, and moved on out of frustration and eventual disinterest.

But with him acting so strangely, or suspiciously rather, and the renewal of the burning question Tristan had never answered…she was interested again.

Her eyes wandered back to Tristan, who appeared to be amused at whatever things a very tipsy Louise was saying to him. _Hm, fairly normal behavior. _But nevertheless, she would find out **everything**.

Paris Michelle Gellar was on a mission and nothing would get in her way.

* * *

Tristan had eventually looked away from Paris, but only after she did. He'd get her for this somehow. A sharp pain spiked in his arm, the one Louise was currently tugging on. She was trying to get him to go upstairs with her.

This wasn't an unfamiliar situation to Tristan. It'd be either Louise or Madeline, sometimes both, that would try and get him upstairs. It was sort of funny how going upstairs was so often seen, automatically, as a sign that something dirty was about to happen.

Tristan had gone upstairs plenty of times without doing anything. Not that it mattered. Everyone seemed to enjoy assuming that if he went up there with any girl, sex was a sure thing. Truthfully, he could go up there by himself and his peers would still think some girl up there in a room, waiting for him.

But back to Louise. Tristan was doing his very best to discourage her attempts to get him upstairs. She had managed to drag to the steps, but not up them. She had only gotten that far because his arm hurt and him walking with her made the pulling hurt less. "Louise, really, let's just stay down here."

"Oh come on Tristan, let's..let's have som-some fun."

Heh heh…yeah 'fun'. Then another girl decided to help Louise out.

"I bet it'd be better if I helped you out a little Louise."

_Now they_'_re both here. Someone up there hates me. _A conclusion that he had come to years ago. "Hello Madeline."

"Hi Tristan, now come on upstairs with us. Every guy dreams of getting two girls in bed. We can make that happen for you," she practically purred to him. Madeline, oftentimes, was like a double of Louise was alcohol ran through her system. Horny and on the hunt.

_Oh this is not good. _Both were clearly more than tipsy and both were urging him up the stairs. "Now now ladies, I don't think this is a very good idea. I can't go upstairs with you…" and so his attempts to change their minds began.

"Aw, don't be liiike that Tristan. You've been so miserable lately...we can make you feel better.."

Tristan was trying to figure out something to distract him when a mixed blessing stepped in

"He can't go up there with you."

And then his attempts ended. _Thank you **God**_.Freeing his wrists up, Tristan turned to face his 'savior'. His eyes widened.

"Paris."

Mixed blessing indeed. Of course it was Paris. No one else had a voice that authoritative around here. _Not funny_, he thought 'at' the man upstairs.

* * *

"First there's the library and now this? I must admit that I didn't think you'd be so forward."

Paris ignored his suggestive comments, still unable to believe that she was doing this. But she'd had no choice. She had seen an opening, the perfect opening, to corner Tristan. Sidetracking Maddie and Louise had been no problem. After directing them to the arms of two guys on the dance floor, she had dragged a surprised Tristan upstairs.

Once inside, the dark blonde-haired girl locked the door. She faced Tristan with a determined expression. It clashed terribly with his amused look. _Perv. _

"I see you've locked the door. Wanted to make sure we weren't interrupted?"

Paris wondered sometimes if he thought of these lines in his spare time. "Something like that." His grin widened and Paris just rolled her eyes. "That's not why we're in here DuGrey."

Tristan pretended to be disappointed. Actually, he was disappointed. Not about the sex, but about the fact that her no-nonsense stance meant that she wanted to…to…oh he couldn't even think it.

"We're here to talk."

Oh that accursed word. Talk. "I've made a habit out of not talking about school stuff outside of school."

"I bet, but we're not here to talk about school either."

_Oh, this is promising. _"Is that a fact?"

"You know what I'm looking for DuGrey: answers."

Tristan closed his eyes, sighing as he flopped onto the bed. "Not this again…"

"**Yes**, 'this' again. We wouldn't be going through **'this'** again if you would have just answered me in the first place!"

Blue eyes opened and looked at the dark blonde-haired girl with her hands on her hips. He had no way out. Tristan's eyes fell on a window. _Hm…_

"Don't even think about it. We're three stories up and there's no pool outside of that window, no trees for you to try and reach. Just grass." Paris said that because she knew that his thoughts of escape had to be nipped in the bud.

"Why are you doing this?"

For a moment, Paris was struck by the – what? – sadness in Tristan's voice. He sounded like a little boy that was asking why he was being punished for something he didn't perceive as being deserving of punishment. But she pressed on. This would end **tonight**.

"Well? Aren't you going to answer me?"

"Because I need to know," she said simply.

Tristan wasn't satisfied with the answer. "Oh yeah? Why **now**?"

"Because I didn't think about it until now. Because I used to know when you suffered from so much as a paper cut and now I don't know if you're okay, feeling ill, or deathly sick. Because just a couple of years ago I could still at least tell if you were pretending or not and now I don't even know if you're acting normal or just acting." Paris fixed him with a look he couldn't decipher. "Why now? Because I hardly know you anymore Tristan."

Tristan said nothing. He didn't want to talk about this. Not now, not ever. Even if everything she was saying was true – and it was – he still didn't want to talk about it.

"So now I want to know why it's like this. Why did you end our friendship?" Paris was growing frustrated with Tristan's silence, with his lack of emotion. She could read off some agitation and nothing more. She could hardly read him anymore! The ability was fading in strength with every passing **day**.

Tristan, for his part, was growing agitated too. How dare she just ask him these things out of the blue? How dare she demand these answers like she had the right to know?

Okay, so maybe she did deserve to know, but she didn't have to act like he had done it for no reason! Like he wasn't hurt, like he had **wanted **to end their friendship. How could she act like he was the bad guy when all he had been trying to do was–

"Tell me!"

"I can't!" he shouted back.

Paris huffed. "You mean you **won't**!" she accused.

Tristan got on his feet. "No, I just **can't**!" This was too much; he had to get out of here. He couldn't tell her, it just wasn't an option. He'd get in so much trouble for this!

If he told her this, he'd eventually have to tell her about **everything**. And he…it just, he…

_I **can't**_.

His anger and frustration melted away at the thought and the blond boy decided to go with a different tactic. Surely, if he was hearing her right, his best friend was still in there…

"Please don't make me do this."

Paris was startled by the swift change from heated anger to sorrowful pleading. "What?"

"**Please **Paris. If our friendship ever meant anything to you, **please please **don't do this to me." He'd crack soon if she didn't let him out. He wanted to tell her, he did. He always had…he just couldn't. It wasn't right. It wouldn't be fair to her, to him – not now and not like this.

"If our friendship ever meant anything to me? To **me**? Of course it meant something to meand that's part of why I have to know. Really, I should be asking **you **that question. If our friendship was of any value to you, ever, you'd just tell me!"

"I can't." _Please don't do this…_

"That's a lie! You just won't for some reason!"

"Paris, really, I can't tell you!" _She's not stopping. Why did she have to decided this was so important all of a sudden??_

"You **won't **tell me and I demand to know why!"

"You don't have the right to demand anything!" The anger was back as Paris' inability to just drop it started to get to him. Everything was starting to get to him and this was just icing on the cake. This wasn't supposed to be happening.

"I do have the right to know and I **will **know before you leave tonight." Paris stood her ground. The more defensive he became the more offensive she would become.

Tristan gripped his hair with both hands, mind scrambling for an out that wasn't there. "Would you just let it go? Let **me **go!"

"I can't!"

* * *

End of chapter! Will Tristan confess? And even if he does, just how much will he say? Please review and I'll see you next time!


	7. Back to Where We Were

**How to Save a Life**

* * *

_Standard Disclaimers Apply._

* * *

------- … scene change/break

_---Flashback---_…flashback start

_---End---_…flashback end

_Italics _… thoughts

**Bold **… emphasis

* * *

How to Save a Life: Chapter 7: Back to Where We Were

* * *

"What do you think they're yelling about in there?"

Louise and Madeline had regained sobriety on the dance floor, highly disappointed that they had lost their golden boy. After cornering and questioning a few people, they found themselves going upstairs.

Tristan, they expected this from him. But Paris? Paris Gellar was in a room, a **locked **room, with Tristan DuGrey? This was just too good to pass up. So they huddled by the door, trying to listen in on the heated conversation on the other side.

Louise sighed. "**Why **are these walls partially sound-proofed?"

Madeline shot the other girl a look. "Is that a serious question?"

Louise rolled her eyes. "Of course not." It was fairly obvious why such a measure would be necessary. They could make out muffled sounds, mostly loud ones. That indicated arguing. Either that or one of the two people in there had suddenly become hard of hearing.

* * *

Tristan stared at her, not expecting her to say that. Really, he hadn't expected it to go this far. But he supposed it was inevitable really. She was frustrated and upset, which equaled angry in Paris' world. He was frustrated, upset, and very close to blowing up big time. But then she had said that…

Paris, too, stared at the person across from her, shocked. _That…that wasn't supposed to come out like that. _Even her thoughts were stuttering from surprise. "I…"

"What do you mean 'I can't'?"

Paris turned away from him. "I…I didn't meant to say that."

Tristan took a step towards her. "But you did. What did you mean Paris?" he asked curiously.

Paris didn't turn around. He wanted an explanation? Two could play that game. "If you explain why you can't…I'll explain what I meant."

Tristan sighed. "Paris, I…"

"No!" she said, cutting him off. "Don't say it." They weren't getting anywhere like this. Maybe, maybe if she got things started… "I'll tell you." But still the girl didn't turn around.

"I said 'I can't', as in I can't let you go." She took a breath. "We were best friends Tristan. We swore that we'd always be there for each other. True friends…that's hard to find in our world Tristan. And then…then one day you threw it all away. We may have been kids, but I still understood what I was losing…"

* * *

Guilt.

God how he hated that feeling. It was what he was feeling right now, watching his former best friend plead for answers. It was **Paris**. Paris Gellar. Paris Gellar didn't beg or plead, she demanded. This sad girl here…this couldn't be Paris. The Paris he knew–

Maybe that was it. _I don't know her anymore. _Guilt mingled with pain, both swirling in a sea of questions about the past that just wouldn't go away.

"It's not that I can't let go," she was saying. "I just don't want to."

Tristan moved to stand behind Paris. He reached up to put his hands on her shoulders, but quickly drew back. Uncertainty was written all over his handsome features.

"I miss my best friend Tris'."

Tristan felt a bit moved by this uncharacteristic show of vulnerability from Paris. And it was for him, all for him. "I never meant to hurt you." This time he did place his hands on her shoulders.

Paris moved away. "But you did." The girl didn't hear any reply to that. "Can't you at least give me a reason why you'd hurt me that way?"

"It wasn't supposed to hurt you."

"But it did, Tristan, it did! Which means that whatever purpose you had on top of not hurting me are done with now because you did. So now you have no reason not to tell me."

If only she knew how wrong she was. But…she wasn't supposed to get hurt. The exact opposite was what he had been going for! Breaking up their friendship was supposed to be for the best in the long run. _But she's telling me that it's not… _

Had he been wrong all these years? Had he been mistaken in his attempts to protect her? To save her?

"I'm sorry," he told her. Right now, he just couldn't think of anything else to say.

"If you want to apologize then tell me why you did it. Give me a reason to forgive you."

Tristan stepped back, away from Paris again.

Forgiveness. He didn't need forgiveness. It'd be nice to have it, nice to have her say she accepted things the way they were now.

"I can't."

* * *

Louise and Madeline had grown bored outside the door once the muffled shouts had gone quiet, leaving them in silence in the hallway.

They had been two seconds away from just leaving when they heard the voices raise again. "It really is a shame that we can't tell what's going on in there."

"Well, you wanted your 'guests' to feel secure in their 'privacy'."

"What?" Madeline asked in her defense. "That's important." She shot her best friend a pointed look. "It's saved your ass on more than one occasion."

Louise wisely made no comment.

"Ssh, ssh…do you hear that?"

"No," Louise said plainly.

"Exactly. The shouting had stopped again.

* * *

Paris and Tristan were facing each other, faces slightly red and breathing a little heavily. It was as if they had been physically fighting each other.

For Tristan, it did feel like a physical fight. The boy plopped onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. This wasn't supposed to be happening. She was supposed to go on and do her thing without him. It was supposed to be okay without him in the picture. No, it was supposed to be **better **without him. But it wasn't. Or so Paris was telling him…

"Are…are you really that unhappy?"

"What?" _Is he cracking? _This could be her chance. Paris looked at Tristan, who still wasn't looking up at her, curiously. She decided it'd be best to approach this with caution. If she screwed this up, she'd end up at square one. _"I can't." _If she had to hear that one more time…

"Not knowing," he clarified softly. "Does not knowing really hurt you so much?"

"Yes," she told him honestly. At first it had just bothered her – a lot. But now she could honestly say that, when she thought about it and didn't try to bury anything that bubbled up within her at the thought of it…yeah, it hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said again. She wasn't supposed to get hurt.

_Maybe I should try this another time… _They were at a party she had forced him to go to because she had been forced to go. He was miserable. Something was hurting him a lot; she could see that much. Not from his eyes. His sharp blue eyes weren't directed at her, as Tristan found the floor more interesting.

No, taking in his slightly pale complexion, his messier-than-normal hair, and his slumped, tired form. She couldn't do this. Not now. Maybe later, when he was more… Normal wasn't the word she was looking for. She'd wait until…until… _Maybe I really should just let him go. _

Making her decision, Paris turned and began to walk away.

"It's okay." It wasn't, but…there was nothing she could do. He wouldn't budge right now. They hadn't done anything other than rile each other up and yell at each other.

Tristan nearly flinched. He'd hurt her. **Again. **_I didn't mean to.._ Unfortunately, his heart was working against him.

"_But you did." _That's what she had said. Despite his efforts and best intentions, he was still hurting her.

"_I miss my best friend Tris'."_ Tristan sighed in a depressed manner. _I miss my best friend too._ He sat thinking for a minute before his heart forced his mind back to that. _I miss my best friend too. _Paris had been his best friend for a reason. A really good reason. He'd allowed his fear to wreck all that, but no more.

With a sudden surge of confidence and certainty, Tristan made his own decision.

* * *

"It was for you."

His words stopped Paris just as her hand hovered over the door knob. She had said nothing, simply intending to leave him in here with his thoughts. And then he had spoken. Not turning, just in case she had imagined it, Paris spoke. "What?"

"It was for you," Tristan repeated. He couldn't tell her everything, but he could fix this. He could make it so that he wasn't hurting her anymore.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't explain it, but it was for you. Just…please know that."

She was really hoping for something…that wasn't that. "I was looking for something a little less vague DuGrey."

He gave her a slight smile. "Back to the last names Gellar?"

"Get over it DuGrey." She stepped forward until she was about a foot in front of him. The blond boy looked up at her. "So what does this mean?"

Tristan stood up to face Paris, looking her in the eyes for once. "It means you can call me Tris' again."

Paris offered up a tiny, rare smile. "Yeah?"

Tristan slung an arm around the shorter girl's shoulders. "Yeah."

* * *

The newly restored friends walked out, or they tried to. As soon as Tristan opened the door, they forced to take a few steps back as Louise and Madeline came toppling though the doorway.

The girls calmly untangled themselves from each other and got up, dusting themselves off as if they hadn't been trying to eavesdrop. The arm-around-the-shoulder bit was very much noted of course.

"May we help you?" Paris asked dryly.

_Ah, there's the old Paris. _Definitely not the sad, vulnerable girl he'd had a glimpse of in there. This was the strong-willed, sarcastic-cynical Paris everyone knew and loved…or feared, whatever.

"Um, no, we were just...looking for a free room."

"Just for the two of you?" Paris queried.

The two girls, to their credit, did not flush at the insinuation. "For future considerations," came the cover from Louise.

Tristan gave the smiling duo a suspicious look, obviously not buying. "You do recall that the rooms are semi-sound-proofed right? You can't hear anything specific." As far as he knew, all you could make out was the volume of whatever was going on in there – and that was just barely.

"Yes," they both chirped.

After exchanging a look with Tristan, Paris simply left, slipping from underneath the boy's arm. She ignored the tingling from the warmth he'd left behind.

Tristan suddenly recalled the fact that Louise and Madeline had been trying to drag him upstairs and into a room a bit earlier. Neither of them looked particularly drunk, but that wasn't saying much.

Louise noted his wariness and gave him a suggestive look and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

If this was anime, you could insert a sweatdrop right here. Very much aware of the fact that he was all alone in the hall with them, add in the look Louise was giving him...Tristan opted to slowly edge away from the twosome before bolting downstairs.

Louise and Madeline just watched him go.

"Okay, that was suspicious."

"I know; they were so onto us."

Louise rolled her eyes. "No genius, I meant them. They've always had a tolerate-hate thing going. We just heard shouting coming from in there several times…and then they walk out all chummy?"

Louise thought on this. "Their clothing was straight – perfect. No signs of rumpling." Well, beyond Tristan's usual rumpled look. Paris' attire had, of course, been flawless as usual.

"They're either really good at covering up that sort of thing or nothing happened aside from talking."

"I think they talked. The clothing was normal, the hair was the same as when they went in," except for Tristan's hair being further ruffled by him continuously running his hands through it, "and neither of them looked sweaty."

"And if it's Tristan, there **has **to be sweating."

How they would come to that conclusion is up to your imagination.

"So they talked?"

Madeline nodded as they descended the stairs for damage control as the party started to wind down – or rather, as they started to send people home…or wherever. "They talked."

* * *

Okay, so a little support is forming. But don't think that means his life is going to get any easier or less painful. The object is to harass, torture, torment, and otherwise cause angst and sorts of drama for Tristan after all. R&R and maybe I'll spare him a little - maybe. Who knows, I might even cut the guy a break and toss in a few hints of romance. XD


	8. He Won't Wait Forever

**How to Save a Life**

* * *

_Standard Disclaimers Apply._

* * *

Curley-Q

_Glad you like the way I wrote them! I was trying to portray them naturally, for the most part anyway. As for Tristan and Paris...wait and see..  
_

LoVe23

_Here's more for you!_

mimi pascal dugrey

_I'm happy that you love the story so much!_ _I always_ _hope that my readers enjoy the story as much as I do. Explanations will come in bits and pieces and some things will be more obvious than others. There's more than one reason for Tristan's misery, but that's all I'm saying about it for now!_

nemo123489

_Thanks!_

* * *

------- … scene change/break

_Flashback_…flashback start

_End_…flashback end

_Italics _… thoughts

**Bold** … emphasis

* * *

How to Save a Life: Chapter 8: He Won't Wait Forever

* * *

Rory Gilmore was a very oblivious person. She was one of the smartest people you'd ever meet, but the girl could be quite dense when it came to things that didn't involve books or academics. Giver the wide range of things that did not fall under such a category, the amount of things Rory could not comprehend outnumbered things she did comprehend. By a great number too. There was naivety and then there was...Rory. Sad, but true, it is safe to say that Rory can be rather clueless sometimes, much to the frustration of those around her. 

But today was different. Today, not even Rory could ignore the buzz that seemed to be affecting every student in Chilton's lengthy halls. Everyone seemed to be talking about something in hushed whispers. And as Rory grabbed the necessary books for her first two periods of class, she began to wonder what it was about.

_It's probably something dumb,_ she assured herself on the way to class. Something must have happened at the party last night – something that baffled her. Not the party, that was normal. It was the fact that the party had been in the middle of the freaking week. Couldn't even wait until the weekend, she thought to herself. Chiltonites, pph. Rory wondered why it even surprised her anymore. It wasn't like they had anything better to do. Right? Nothing like, oh I don't know...study? Seriously, did anyone in this school - excluding a few students, Paris, naturally being one of them - ever doing anything remotely academic outside of school? Study? Read? And she wasn't talking about the latest Sports' Edition of...of...whatever magazine produced Sports' magazines or Cosmo Girl either! Actual books with actual authors. She sighed. _I guess not,_ the girl concluded.

However, Rory ignored the buzzing whispers. She only found them annoying. Besides, she was sure Madeline and Louise would tell her all about it at lunch when they dragged her from outside and gossiped to her while she read a book and pretended to listen to them. You know, the usual routine.

She was also sure that whatever gossip, it was nothing important. Probably talking about a couple having a huge fallout or someone getting caught with someone that they shouldn't have been with or something equally ridiculous. Typical Chilton gossip; it was almost always the same. She found the world inside her books much more interesting. The dull, shallow whispers of her classmates couldn't hold a candle to such intriguing story-lines. So while such things were the highlight of their days, Rory was like...

_Whatever._

Besides, Rory had more important things to worry about. Things like her article for The Franklin being due a week from now, her Biology homework due today, her English paper due by Wednesday of next week, and her share of the history project Paris had insisted on them starting.

And speaking of Paris, where was the little slave driver? Rory was surprised that the blonde hadn't been by to harass her over the article or the project yet…or both.

Shrugging it off, Rory went on to class. It was a shame that she had picked that moment to walk off. Had she stayed, she would have had the answers to two pressing questions: Where was Paris? - and - What was all the fuss about?

* * *

"Tristan, could you slow down please?!" 

The blond merely tossed his friend a smirk as he shifted gears and sped on to school.

Friend.

_No...best friend._ God it felt great to be able to call her that again. Hell, it was great to be able to call anyone that and mean it, but the fact that his close friendship with Paris had been restored was so much better. It…took the edge off things. Even his reception at the manor after returning from the party hadn't been able to crush him completely this time. He felt stronger and just a little bit more stable. And that's all he needed at the moment.

"What are you smiling about?" Paris asked. Bad things tended to happen when Tristan smiled in a certain way – common knowledge to everyone.

"This," he said as the school came into view.

Paris arched an eyebrow. "Vague much DuGrey?"

"Only to annoy you Gellar," he said with a grin.

The girl rolled his eyes, amazed that she didn't jerk about in her seat as Tristan, somehow, smoothly parked his car. The girl had no idea how he managed to do it at the speed he had been maintaining, but there was no whiplash so… _Whatever._ Word of the day it seems.

Her door opened, courtesy of an oddly happy Tristan DuGrey. Mind you, she didn't feel that he'd been depressed per say, just…not happy. But here he was, opening her door, happy as hell for whatever reason. He was damn near cheerful and it was freaking her out a little. Tristan just didn't do cheerful; it simply wasn't natural. Cocky? Yes. Excited? Eh, sort of. Content? Sure. Happy? Occasionally...but not lately it seemed. Hm. Anyway, cheerful? Get real. As stated above, the blond-haired athlete, did not do the cheerful thing. Eerie, but she let it go. Better him eerily cheerful than eerily unhappy.

Paris, personally, was trying to adjust to it all. Don't get her wrong, she was more than happy to have Tristan's friendship again. To have Tristan back again. She simply needed to get used to Tristan's continued presence and friendliness again. Not that he had been mean to her or anything, but it was nice to have him. Him as in his friendship of course.

Mm, of course.

Getting out of Tristan's car, she linked her arm with his proffered one. She may not be used to this yet, but…

"Ready?"

Paris looked over at a smiling Tristan and nodded. "Definitely."

…but damn it, she was going to try.

* * *

Paris had been expecting the hushed whispers and the pathetic attempts to be discreet. Really she had. But it was freaking lunch now and people were still talking. 

Maybe it was just more shocking for them. Not all of the students had been around to witness the era of Tristan and Paris' childhood friendship. Many knew of it, but those that hadn't witnessed it firsthand were quick to think it some stupid rumor.

Surely the King of Chilton couldn't be so close to…Paris Gellar of all people! Paris wasn't popular so much as feared at Chilton. She had a reputation that was well-known. Her high status was because people were afraid of her, not because they worshiped her like Madeline or Louise.

But at any rate, today was a good day. Or lunch anyway. Today, she would not have to endure Louise's sexual comments, Madeline's gossip, or Rory's obliviousness to the ways of society. Today she was eating out here in the courtyard…with Tristan.

He had said that he had wanted to eat out here with her, away from their classmates and their gossipy-chatter. Granted, those hadn't been his exact words, but they were close enough.

_Okay, just relax. It's just lunch; no big deal. You've eaten lunch with friends/associates before, this is nothing new._ But this was new. It might as well have been. She and Tristan hadn't really been friends in years. Yeah, they were young, but even a few months could be enough to make former best friends as good as strangers at their age(s).

"Thinking about something important are we?"

Paris twisted around on the bench to face Tristan. He hand a tray in hand, and seemed to have managed to pile two lunches worth of food on there. He sat down beside her, tray on his lap.

"Or someone rather?"

Paris snorted. "Someone like you?"

Tristan smirked. "Why Paris, you were thinking of me? I'm flattered."

Rolling her eyes, Paris snatched an apple of the tray. This was easy – she could do this.

* * *

"Look at them. What are they doing?" 

Louise looked out of the large windows on one side of the cafeteria. It showed a portion of the courtyard and a certain pair of blonds were out there. "Talking Jamie."

Louise didn't know why this Jamie girl had taken it upon herself to sit at their table, but the girl had lent her this fabulous pair of Jimmy Choos for a date the other day. Those shoes (and her killer body of course) had scored her a senior on the football team. High school gold. No, make that diamond. Gold was so not in. Louise had only given the shoes back with a light 'thank you' and dismissal.

Now the girl thought that they were friends and wouldn't quit following her. She only put up with it because she had a one-day rule about wannabes who thought they were 'in' over one little favor. She just gave the poor losers a taste of one of their wildest high school dreams coming to fruition before she shot them down and flushed those dreams shards down the toilet. Mean? Maybe, but Louise just saw it as reality. It was how things went in their world. Simple as that.

"But why?"

Madeline shot Louise a long-suffering look. All throughout lunch the girl had been asking them questions about Tristan. When the blond boy had come in the lunch room, stacked up a tray, and walked right back out. Two minutes later he came out to the courtyard and sat himself down next to a girl. Nothing special, Tristan would sometimes go to the courtyard during lunch to 'entertain' the latest girl of his choice.

The odd thing about today was that it was Paris he was sitting next to. While the two had never expressed an open hate, it was known that they weren't exactly buddies. It seemed, however, that that had changed. Louise and Madeline knew what the deal was, as would anyone who had been around the pair since elementary school.

Louise sighed. "Because, Tristan and Paris are friends Jamie."

"Since when?"

Louise, Madeline, and Jamie all looked over at the newest speaker. Jamie looked because she didn't know who the girl was, hadn't even noticed she was there actually. Madeline looked because it had been the first time the girl spoke since lunch had started. She had thought the brunette couldn't hear a thing with those large, painfully unfashionable headphones in. Poor girl could at least get some earbuds.

Louise? Well she looked out of interest of course. "Why?" Rory had never, since arriving at the school, shown any interest in school gossip, especially when Tristan was mentioned.

Rory bit her lip and took off her headphones, wishing that she had kept her mouth shut. She had done well in ignoring the gossip all day, but when commotion stirred into a frenzy as Tristan opted to eat lunch with Paris…out in the courtyard…alone, well, she just couldn't help it. She had been under the impression that Paris hated Tristan, especially after that arranged date thing. Granted, that had been her fault mostly, but that wasn't the point. Paris had never been fond of Tristan as far as she knew and now they were chatting it up out there. It was just so odd to her.

It didn't make sense.

As a person of logic, Rory liked for things to make sense. She needed things to make sense and Tristan with Paris made no sense at all. Then this Jamie character kept talking about it until the point that Rory just couldn't help herself. When Louise finally came out and said that they were friends, as if it was old news, the words 'Since when' just tumbled out of her mouth.

Rory fumbled for an explanation. "I…was just wondering. You make it sound like they've always been friends."

Louise gave her an odd look, but gave her an answer without voicing her inner thoughts. She could give the girl the benefit of the doubt. After all, Rory hadn't been amongst them when they were little. Really, with that rebel Gilmore history, there was no telling where Rory had been when she was a little girl. "They used to be," Louise said simply.

"Excuse me?"

Louise laughed a little. Poor thing was just so clueless. Ah well, it couldn't be helped in this case. "Some of us have known each other since we were really little - key in on me, Maddie, Paris, Tristan, and a handful of others in our grade...with some others that are underclassmen and a few more that are upperclassmen. Paris and Tristan were friends right from the sandbox. If Tristan was there, so was Paris. If Paris appeared, Tristan was right behind her. No one understood it, but we were just kids – no one cared back then. It was just accepted." Ah, the simplicities of youth. If only they had remained so accepting. "Tristan and Paris were inseparable and that's all there was to it."

Madeline giggled suddenly and Louise looked over to her. "What?"

"Tristan and Paris were, like, King and Queen of the Sandbox."

Louise laughed. "Yeah, they were weren't they?"

Rory said nothing as the pair reminisced about their elementary school days, just absorbing this information. Tristan and Paris were cradle buddies? They had been best friends since they were in diapers?

Madeline noticed that Rory was staring in the direction of Tristan and Paris. "Rory…are you jealous?" she asked in amusement.

The brunette stared at the other girl with an open-mouthed expression. "**No**! No, of course not!"

Maddie held her hands up. "Whoa, whoa, easy. I was just asking. You were staring outside at them all funny, so I thought maybe it bothered you." She had honestly been joking, but with that strong of a reaction, maybe there was some jealousy.

Rory frowned and shook her head. "No…I just find it hard to believe that Tristan and Paris could have been inseparable as kids and be practical strangers now."

"So what happened?" Jamie queried.

"What?"

"Why are they just now being all…friendly if they've been best friends since they were little kids?"

Louise shrugged. "No one knows. One day they were like...each others' shadows. The next day they weren't. Again, we were all just little kids – who cared?"

Rory looked outside once more at the now-laughing pair. Paris Gellar and Tristan DuGrey… Weird.

* * *

"Sooo…how does it feel?" 

Paris wondered what she had done to deserve this. Things had been going well since her not-so-bad lunch with Tristan. She handed in her English paper early, brilliant work that was. The homework load wasn't crushing today, no one bothered her, she received an 'A+', of course, on the returned Art History test today… All was well in the world of Paris Gellar.

That is until the gossip hounds came. The ones that she knew wouldn't go away.

Louise and Madeline.

"Don't you two have class?"

Both girls held up bathroom passes. "It's amazing how the slightest mention of 'that time of the month' makes male teachers do whatever you want," Louise said with a laugh.

Paris rubbed a temple and wondered, again, what she had done to deserve this. "I'm busy. See this?" She gestured to the room. "This is a library. People study here. This is my study period, so now I'm studying." She waved a hand dismissively, clearly wanting the other two girls to get lost.

"Meaning?"

Paris scowled at Madeline. "**Meaning** I don't have time for you two – beat it." Could she been any more clear here?

Louise plopped down beside the blonde, much to her dismay. "You know I don't do libraries Paris, which should tell you just how big this is."

"What?"

"Come on Paris. You and Tristan."

Paris pretended to look over her notes. "Yeah?" She didn't want to talk about that. That was private, you know? Just a special thing only for her and Tristan to think about or worry over. No one else.

"Well? How does it feel?"

Annoyed at the odd question, she looked up. "How does what feel?"

"Finally being queen, Paris. Everyone knows what being Tristan's main lady means."

Paris frowned. "We're not dating."

"So? You two are obviously well on your way to being inseparable again. I saw you two after lunch. Laughing all the way to his locker – come on."

Paris huffed. "So? We were just…remembering things we did as kids." They had done many stupid things as kids, but it was funny in retrospect. "We were just catching up."

"Yes, and according to my sources, you two were catching up every chance you had between classes. You were hanging around his locker…he followed you to yours. It's like elementary school again!" Of course, their lockers were more like cubbies back then...

Paris paused to think. She actually liked the idea of that. Having the close relationship they had before…but she knew it wouldn't be quite possible. She had done a lot of changing and growing up, both from coping with the loss of Tristan and from life in general. Society life had a way of changing people. "So?"

"So? You were practically his girlfriend back then Paris and now that we're all older and Tristan is considerably more interested in girls…"

"Yes?"

Louise and Madeline both shot her an exasperated look. "I know that we don't have to fill in the blanks for you Paris." Madeline said.

Paris rolled her eyes and began to pack up her stuff. "As much as I enjoy being interrogated by you two, I have to go. There's a meeting for the Franklin and Junior Council."

"There's ten minutes left this period and you haven't answered the question."

"And? What's it to y– "

"Paris?"

All three girls turned to see Tristan standing a few feet away. _Tristan - thank goodness. _Someone up there decided to have mercy on her. Paris steadfastly ignored the arched brows of both girls and went over to Tristan as if he was holding the Holy Grail and not just his car keys.

Tristan could only look offer up a confused look as Paris dragged him away. "What was that all about?" he asked as he allowed himself to be pulled along.

"Nothing Tris', come on." He would either joke about it or be just as uncomfortable as she was about it. Paris didn't want to deal with either option so she just kept hold of his wrist and headed for the door. Just a few feet and - yes! - freedom.

* * *

Louise watched the pair go, a knowing look on her face. "Mmhm, just like I thought." 

"What's that Louise?"

"That it will only be a matter of time before Paris really does become Tristan's girlfriend. This isn't elementary school anymore; it's bound to happen."

Madeline frowned. "Oh yeah? Well what about Rory?" She really thought that Rory and Tristan would be good together…they just needed some time together outside of school.

"What about her?" Louise stood up, eager to get out of the library before anyone saw her.

"Tristan's obviously crazy about her though. It's been like that since she first showed up; you know that. He won't date Paris," she concluded confidently.

Louise shook her head in disagreement. "But he won't wait forever either. No guy is that patient, and plus, we're in high school. Honestly, he can't possibly stay hung up over that girl for much longer. Whatever he feels for Rory, he's eventually going to get tired of waiting for her to give it him a chance. And Paris clearly still has a crush on him – she'll be right there when Tristan gives up on Rory." She and Maddie knew better than anyone what the tendencies of high school males were. ...Or males in general for that matter. Tristan was a rather unpredictable guy, but even **he **fell in step sometimes. He wouldn't stand around waiting for too long, no matter how special he thought that girl was.

"Oh," Madeline replied, slightly disappointed. She still believed there was a chance Tristan would hold out for Rory, but...this was high school. And even if they knew him better than most, knew about certain aspects of the front he put up at school...he was still a ladies' man - hands down. She thought Rory and Tristan made a better match than Paris and Tristan, but then again... _Louise has a point…_

* * *

End chapter... Hey, can anyone tell me how to fix these 'break' problems. I don't like everything being so close together, you know, right around these horizontal lines. Solutions? Suggestions? Leave it in a review!  



	9. Crack In His Armor

**How to Save a Life**

* * *

_Standard Disclaimers Apply._

* * *

_Thanks to all my reviewers and everyone that added me to their alerts! It is much appreciated!!_

Still haven't figured out how to space this out better, but I'm working on it!

* * *

------- … scene change/break

_Flashback_…flashback start

_End_…flashback end

_Italics _… thoughts

**Bold **… emphasis

* * *

How to Save a Life: Chapter 9: Crack in His Armor

* * *

"Rory…Rory!" 

Said brunette's head snapped up to see an annoyed Paris by her locker. "Oh! Um, hey Paris."

"Right. Now that I have your attention. I came over here to remind you that we're working on that report at my house today."

_Crap…_ "Oh, oh yeah, I'll be there. Six right?"

Paris nodded her head sharply. "Right, six on the dot. You have the directions?"

Rory nodded. "Yes, I have them."

"And my number in case you get confused or lost?"

"Yes, Paris I have it."

"And your article for the Franklin?"

"Draft ready," the brunette replied easily.

Having run out of things to demand from the girl, Paris gave her another sharp nod. "Good. See you after school Gilmore."

Rory let out a sigh when the girl was gone. She felt like she had just gone through an intense interrogation. She didn't know why, but Paris reminded Rory of a strict drill sergeant, listing off things that needed to be confirmed by some poor newbie cadet. Glad the moment was over, but dreading the evening to come, Rory went off to class.

* * *

"Oof!" 

Rory found herself on the floor, rubbing her rump after a little fall. She had been rushing to the parking lot, only to run into something firm. Or someone rather. The other person was on the floor too, apparently hurt.

She looked up and mentally cursed her luck.

"Tristan?"

Tristan said nothing at first, too busy trying to regain his breath. _Okay…__**ow. **_Swallowing heavily, he looked up, trying not to protectively wrap an arm around his middle. "Why hello there Mary." She scowled at him a little before seemed to take over. God, she was so beautiful. And kind too – just look at her. He'd doubtlessly just annoyed her to no end with the 'Mary' thing, but she still looked concerned about the fact that he had yet to make any move to get up. His grimace probably wasn't helping his case either.

"Tristan?"

The boy forced himself to get up, smothering a wince. He held out a hand. "Up you go," he said as Rory used him to pull herself up.

"You're…okay right?" Rory felt that it was odd for him to have stayed on the ground so long. And he had looked like he was in pain when she first noted that he was the one she had run into.

"With this physique?" He made a sweeping motion with his hand, gesturing to himself. "Of course I am Mary. But really, if you wanted to be around me, trying to run me over was highly unnecessary."

And there was the cockiness again, and with a come-on thrown in there too. "Next time I'll try it with a car," she said sweetly.

Tristan looked at her with a mock-hurt expression on his face, hand pressed against his heart. "Why Mary, you wound me."

"Right, I'm sure that huge ego of yours makes for a great shield though," she said while gathering her stuff. _Where did that book go?_

"Looking for this?" Tristan waved the missing book around.

Rory reached for it, but Tristan held it away. That not that that was terribly difficult, he was a few inches taller than her. Rory folded her arms, huffing at the boy.

Tristan smirked as he held the book out of the brunette's reach. He lowered his arm a little, the stretch causing him to ache a little. She had settled for frowning at his smirking face for now and he took the opportunity to examine what book had captured her this week.

_Pride and Prejudice._He found himself flipping through it a little, momentarily distracted. _Not a bad book if I remember correctly… _

Rory was about to try and snatch it away when she noticed that Tristan appeared to be genuinely interested in the book. _He __**had **__been reading in the library the other day…_ What had he said? Oh yes: _"Reading – I'd thought you would have noticed that when you first came in here." _

Apparently, Tristan liked to read. In retrospect, Paris hadn't been as surprised as Rory to see him there, but anyway…he looked rather interested in the book. She studied him for a moment, looking at how his eyes squinted a little as he looked at the back cover and a few random pages in the book. He seemed to be fully engrossed for a moment and Rory hated to break this peaceful moment, but she really had to do it. "Would you like to borrow it?"

Tristan looked over at Rory, half-startled. _What?_ His brain had to take a moment to catch up. Ah literature, the things it did to him. Tristan hoped he hadn't spaced out the girl too long… A passing glance at his watch caused a sudden panic to sweep through him. _I'm late! _"Um, oh no, that's fine. Here," he hastily handed it back. "I, uh, I gotta go."

Rory watched, highly confused as Tristan speedily walked away. What had gotten into him? One moment he was normal, the next he wasn't, and now he was running away? The brunette watched in confusion a little longer as she, for the first time, was left behind by Tristan.

* * *

It was cold. 

That was what Mira noted as she stepped outside the mansion. After trying to get Tristan to eat some dinner, she had went about her other duties. The Latina was presently looking for Tristan, as he was her primary concern in the household.

_Heaven only knows what would happen to him if he was left to his own devices. _Mira's heart ached a little at the memory of the teenager she had met that first day here.

_Flashback_

* * *

Wow. _That's what came to mind as Mira looked up at the imposing manor before her. She had been hired here after a short interview with a rather stuffy and cold-mannered man. He had been leering at her the entire time, but she'd put up with it. _

Por ma madre,_ she reminded herself. She needed this job because the man of this household paid well and that pay would do well to help her take care of her mother. Entering the manor and being ushered off to start her job, Mira reminded herself again. _Por ma madre.

_For my mother._

_-----_

_She was about to ring the doorbell when the door opened before she do so. Surprised, Mira just stood there and stared at the teenage boy that had come to the door. He was a little younger than her and looked a little worse for wear._

_Sure, he was handsome. Tussled blond hair, sharp features, nice build, and stunning blue eyes. They would have been more magnificent if they weren't bloodshot and didn't have dark circles forming underneath. He looked miserable._

"_May I help you?" he queried. His voice was oddly hoarse, rough._

"_I…I'm the new maid." _

_Tristan blinked at the woman, trying to think. It came to him soon enough. He remembered hearing something about a new maid being needed. Her story checked out. He stepped back, opening the door further. "Come on in."_

"_Tristan! Get back up here, we're not done!" came a shout from upstairs._

_Mira looked over in time to see the teen – Tristan – flinch, a wary expression on his face. He looked tired, afraid even. _

_A man appeared at the top of the stairs, shouting for Tristan again. Mr. DuGrey obviously wasn't a happy camper and Tristan sighed slowly before closing the door. Running a hand through his hair, the teen slowly trudged up the stairs._

_Mira just looked up the stairs, wondering what he'd done to anger his father so much._

* * *

_End_

It wasn't until later that Mira discovered that Tristan's father was often angry, and that anger was usually directed at Tristan. She also found that Tristan often did absolutely nothing to warrant this anger.

It was baffling.

Mira had grown strangely attached to the quiet teen, risqué behavior and all. He'd let her in for reasons she didn't know of, and it only made her feel more protective of him. He was like the little brother she never had. Mira felt so bad for him, though she knew Tristan hated pity.

The Spanish housekeeper couldn't imagine what Tristan could have ever done in his short life to deserve the hand that had been dealt to him. She had watched him suffer misfortune after misfortune and she hated it. She hated it all, though a selfish part of her was glad that he trusted and depended on her the way he did. She liked feeling needed, wanted. Tristan did that for her.

"Tristan?"

This seemed to happen a lot. Her calling out to him, worried. _Lord knows no one else in this place is._ Where was he? She had managed to get him to eat a sandwich when he came home, but nothing more. His appetite had waned since coming home from that close call with the military academy and it worried her. As for the most recent issue, well, she didn't know what had happened exactly.

Someone had called for Mr. DuGrey, forcing him to cut his 'talk' with Tristan (more like yelling really) short. Tristan went to his room, only to be called into his father's office not five minutes later. That's all she knew happened before dinner. What went on in the office was beyond her. When he (Tristan) failed to come out for dinner, she had tried to take it to him.

Odd thing was, he hadn't been there.

And so now she was searching for him. The manor was a huge place to look for someone, but there were few places that Tristan would hide out in. Thusly, her search had shifted to the outside after about thirty minutes. She wandered to the poolhouse, knowing how he liked to go there sometimes. Luck was with her that evening. _Found him._

"Tristan."

* * *

Currently, the blond was staring into space, registering nothing. Tristan didn't notice the cold; he didn't notice anything. The world was just a silent film rolling on without him. 

Why did these things keep happening? Why now, at his lowest?

The blond hunched over, arms wrapping around his middle. _Just keep it together, _he thought to himself. _Keep it together._

Tristan stared at the ground, feeling as though he'd be sick. His mind just kept repeating his father's hollow words over and over. The teen shut his eyes tightly, willing the memory to go away. He was losing it.

"Tristan."

The blond said nothing, just sat there on a pool chair, trying to keep it all together. She couldn't help him with this, not this. Mira hadn't been around long enough for him to feel like telling her **everything**; she wouldn't understand.

Mira approached Tristan slowly, as one would approach a wounded animal in the wild. She paused, growing more concerned as she noted that he appeared unaware of her presence. Or the cold. He didn't shiver at all, just sat there staring into space. No wait, his eyes were tightly shut.

"Tristan…" she sat down next to him, brushing his hair back. "Talk to me Tristan, what did he say to you?"

She was doubtlessly referring to his father, but Mr. DuGrey hadn't really done anything to him. Shocking, but true.

"He…" Tristan couldn't bring himself to say it. He just sat there, silently hoping that he'd misheard.

"She…" Maybe he was just hallucinating, maybe this was just a sick nightmare preying on his mind.

"She what?" _Who's 'she'? Didn't he say 'he' at first?  
_

_Maybe…_ Not. Tristan wasn't an optimist, an idealist. He knew that he'd heard his father's cool tenor just fine. The message had come in crystal clear and now he was out here hoping the cold would distract him.

Physical discomfort often made it easier to temporarily forget about emotional or mental pain. He'd read that somewhere. It was true that Tristan liked to read – anything. You put a book in front of him and he'd read it through unless it was just that awful.

His returning unresponsiveness bothered her, but she said nothing. This happened sometimes. He wouldn't say a word; he'd just sit there and…think. Or so she supposed. Mira didn't know if he was thinking, spacing out, or in shock. Mira reached for the boy, pulling him to her.

Tristan let the woman tug him closer, accepting her warmth for a little while.

And they sat there, out in the cold – Mira not knowing what was wrong and Tristan unable to bring himself to speak any futher.

* * *

Suddenly, Tristan stood up, breaking the embrace. Mira let out a surprised sound. "What is it Tristan?" He didn't answer her, just stared at the mansion. 

This…this whole place. This manor, this **ice **palace. _I can't be here. _Tristan shook his head. He had to go. This…no, it was wrong. It was all **wrong**. He felt someone tugging on his arm, trying to get his attention.

The blond felt his mouth moving, knew that words were coming out, but that was it. Tristan was in his own little world right now. His thoughts were a jumbled, distressed mess that only he could make sense of.

Mira tried to get Tristan to speak, and he did. He just wasn't making any sense. "Gone, go…he said… She…no, have to…have to go.. I, she…" And on that way. All she understood was that Tristan wanted to leave. Mira doubted he meant going inside the mansion.

She knew the teen liked to drive around sometimes, but that seemed like a bad idea at the moment. Tristan didn't appear to be in the right state of mind for driving. She was afraid that he would crash and hurt himself or something. "No, how about we just go upstairs? You need to eat and get some rest. Just calm down…" Her voice was soft, but audible, and soothing.

Tristan just shook his head. No, no! He had to go. He felt like the life was being sucked out of him just staying here. No, he knew where he had to go. He knew what could help him. Only two people in this world would understand him right now, but only one was within reach. _Have to go, have to go, have to go… _This just repeated over and over in his mind until he couldn't stand it anymore.

Tristan freed himself and took off towards the manor. He breezed through the kitchen, passed the living room and the hallway that preceded it. Not even bothering to grab a jacket from the foyer, Tristan rushed out the door and to his car. _Have to go, have to go, have to go…_

Mira got to the door in time to see Tristan's car peel out of the driveway and out of the now-open gates to the manor. She looked up and bit her lip. Looked like rain. _What do I do? _She couldn't call…anyone really. His father? Heavens no. She didn't know of any friends of Tristan's to call on…

And then it came to her. It'd be a long shot, but she remembered how much this person meant to Tristan. She had never met the guy, but…surely he'd help right? _I hope so…_ And with that, she closed the door and went to use a phone where no one would see her.

* * *

Mira was right; it did look like rain. It was raining and cold, but Tristan didn't care. He stood outside the door, staring blankly at it. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. There was a jeep he didn't recognize out there… Someone else was over here. 

The blond blinked as the door opened in front of his face before he could do anything at all.

An older man stared back at him, wondering why this strange boy had been standing outside the door for so long. He recognized the blond, of course, but had no idea why he'd be out here. "May I help you Master DuGrey?"

Nothing. It was like the boy hadn't heard him. James, the doorman, was tempted to wave a hand in front of the boy's face. There was no need though, as he finally spoke up.

"…Is Paris home?"

* * *

So sad, more bad news for Tristan, which equals more angst! You know that he's run off to Paris, but who did Mira call? And what was the bad news? Will I **ever **give you people some straight answers? lol, Review and maybe I will! 


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